Alive Amongst the Dead: Noah Wrigley's Story
by LaceyoftheTypewriter
Summary: The Walking Dead with my OC as a main character. Noah is a 17-year-old girl who abandoned her loveless family in order to survive the apocalypse. When two members of the Atlanta survivor camp rescue her, they take her in and she becomes part of the group. But her past will come back to haunt her, and her new family will have to do what it takes to help her. Rick/OC father/daughter
1. CHAPTER 1: Saved

Alive Amongst the Dead:

Noah Wrigley's Story

_Rated T: Violence, language, and non-M level sexual material_

Noah's been on her own for a long time. In the old world, she lived with her mother, brother, sister, and harsh stepfather. After the world went to hell and the dead began to walk again, Noah ran away from her home in hopes of surviving off the land. A few weeks into her escape, overcome by the living dead, Noah is on the brink of death when she stumbles upon an encampment just outside of Atlanta, and she begins to build a life in a world of death. Does Noah have what is takes to survive the end of the world?

**(NOTE: Story goes mostly to Walking Dead canon, with just a few alterations to the storyline to fit my character. Also, I did not take the extra time to make sure the conversations went verbatim as they did in the show—however, the material is still the same. Mostly. After all, this is fan _fiction_.)**

_Chapter 1: Saved_

I wanted a burger.

For some reason, in the face of imminent death and un-death, while I navigated the Georgia forests alone in the day and tried to find a good hiding place at night, food was all I could think about. I wasn't starving; I had feasted on berries and roasted squirrel just a few hours before, and I was almost—it was hard to believe—uncomfortably full. But still, the image of a juicy cheeseburger wouldn't dislodge itself from my mind.

It was morning light. Everything was serene and peaceful. The sun, pink and gold in the sky, was peeking through the green leaves in the forest, which were blowing softly in the light breeze. It was the kind of morning I had often prayed for in the old world, but at that moment I would have killed to be stuck in outrageous morning traffic, complete with heavy rain and blaring car horns. Anything but this eternal quiet. Or, at least, eternally quiet until it was damnably loud.

I knew that I needed to get moving before morning faded to midday and afternoon melted into the dangerous night, but I couldn't help but stop to enjoy the brief moment of inactivity. For so long all I'd done was run, live hand to mouth, kill, run, hide, and run. Survive. It was impossible to let such a still, harmless morning go to waste.

I sat in silence for the next few hours. I tried to pray, something that I had done every day without fail in the old world, but it had become something I was unable to manage in the new world. I tried to sleep, but that as well was something that no longer came all too easily. So I opted to sit and absorb the day while I could. Or, at least, absorb the moment where I wasn't fighting for my life.

Without warning, there was a rustling in the trees behind me. In a flash, I was standing, my knife in my left hand and my right hand feeling for the small caliber pistol I kept tucked into my jeans. I kept my breathing steady, my eyes scanning the forest with precision and trepidation. I saw nothing, heard nothing.

There was another rustle, louder and closer in proximity. I tensed, readying myself. My backpack full of supplies was hanging from my shoulder; if I needed to run, I wouldn't be leaving anything behind.

A squirrel scurried out from behind a tree, kicking up fallen leaves as it ran. I immediately let out a pent of breath, trying to slow down my heartbeat, which had started rapidly pounding in my chest. And then—in the middle of trying to cut my flow of adrenaline, in the middle of recovering from the shock of a squirrel—that's when I heard it. The sound that set my blood on fire with adrenaline and pure, real, vibrant fear.

A growling hiss emanated from behind me, and the stench of a decomposing body filled the air.

As quick as the fear shot through me, I shoved it back. I whirled around and didn't even think. With my left hand I quickly jabbed forward, stabbing through the skull of that _thing_ without a moment's hesitation. Its eyes widened, and then I twisted the knife and deftly pulled it out. The monster collapsed, dead. Or dead again, at least.

As the adrenaline slowly faded away, I took a closer look at the body on the ground. It was female, perhaps in the twenties-to-thirties age range, although most of those heinous things couldn't be differentiated. She had been wearing jeans and a pink tank top when she had died, complete with a denim jacket and a really nice but really dirty pair of tennis shoes. There was a gold band on her left ring finger, and there was a locket hanging around her neck that had been smashed open. It was hanging on the hinge, but a dusty photo of a little baby boy was visible through the grime.

I couldn't have told you why I did what I did next. I reached down and looked in the pockets of the dead girl, trying to decide if what I was doing was theft or just pure madness. Deciding on the latter, I finally found what I was looking for—the girl's wallet.

I flipped it open, and there it was, tucked between a ragged twenty dollar bill and a receipt for a tricycle. The driver's license.

Her name was Shelby Griffith. She was twenty-nine years old, and her birthday was July fourteenth. She was really pretty, with long brown hair, porcelain skin, and sparkly green eyes. She was five feet five inches, and she was an organ donor.

I looked at Shelby, lying on the ground before me, blood dribbling from the hole in her head. That wasn't Shelby anymore. Shelby had been dead long before I wielded my knife.

I knew my little bubble of serenity had been popped, and it was time to move forward. I tucked Shelby's ID into my backpack, unsure of why I was even doing it. But I did, and just seconds later I was trudging aimlessly through the forest, thinking of a suitable destination.

I didn't get far before all hell broke loose.

The guttural groan that I'd heard from Shelby's body was multiplied, and I looked around me. There were six of those_ things _surrounding me, and those were the ones I could see. I felt the adrenaline start up again, but something else began to spread slowly and poisonously through my veins. Helplessness, hopelessness. There was no way that I could take on six of those monsters at once with nothing but a knife and wimpy pistol.

But I did have one thing that they didn't have. I was fast.

I began sprinting in the first direction I thought of, letting the wind whip past me as I dodged trees and jumped over roots. I smelled the nearest creature before I saw it, and I quickly slashed to my left, gasping a little in surprise as I saw I had cleanly stabbed the brute right in the head. I didn't stay to admire my handiwork this time, as five more were scrambling after me. I took off running again, but the trees and dense forest forced me straight towards two monsters.

I stopped, planting my feet. I didn't have time to think out a plan. I knew the devastating consequences of what I was about to do, but I couldn't afford to not. I grabbed the pistol out of my jeans, and taking just a moment to aim, I took off the safety and tugged on the trigger. One of the thing's heads exploded in blood and brains, and it dropped to the ground. The very air around me reverberated with the sound of the shot, and I knew I didn't have a lot of time. More would hear; more would come. I quickly ran up to the next one and jabbed the knife again into its head, and it collapsed. Three down, three to go.

I felt a branch snag at my jacket as I ran off in a new direction. It halted me only briefly, but briefly was too long. Within another five seconds, another reanimated body descended upon me. I slashed with my knife, missing and instead hitting it directly in the neck. It hissed louder, riled, and lunged at me again. I couldn't dislodge the knife, and so it stayed there as I let go and put the pistol a centimeter away from the monster's forehead and pulled the trigger. Another loud shot rang out as it fell to the ground, and the other two things were staggering towards me, undeterred.

These two, both males, were faster than the others. One grabbed at me and I dodged it and took a second's breath behind the trunk of a tree. I gathered myself and then hurled my body at the nearest creature, blowing its brains out without a second to lose.

I felt myself growing tired, unnaturally so. I was breathing hard, and my arm was pulsating with pain. I looked down and my eyes grew wide. Blood completely soaked the sleeve of my jacket, and there was a large gash in my arm. It hadn't just been a little branch snag at all; I must have ran into something sharper, although what it could have been I had no idea. For the first time, reality set in. Even if I could manage to kill off this last thing, more would smell the blood and come hunting. And if, by some miracle, they didn't detect me, I'd die without properly caring for the wound.

I heard the familiar strangled hiss, and for the first time my fight or flight instinct didn't kick in. It was over. I sank to my knees, too drained to move another inch. I heard as it neared me and I lifted my gun, but when I pulled the trigger nothing happened. I was out of ammo, with no knife, and a wound that was pouring blood.

I wish I could say I went down in serenity, with some sort of peace of mind in the knowledge that soon I'd be in no more pain. But the innate human survival instinct had yet to die within me. I screamed and closed my eyes, and I felt a deteriorating hand clamp around my arm. I shrieked.

And then the grip slackened, and as the hand fell away I opened my eyes. Two figures stood above me, shadowed and formidable. I tried to stand up, but a hand softly pushed me back down. "Rick, she's got some kind of wound on her arm," I heard a voice say, concerned.

"Is it a bite?" another voice—I guessed Rick—said in a low Southern drawl.

"I don't know, there's so much blood…"

"No," I breathed. "Not a bite. I promise. A cut."

One man bent on one knee in front of me. He was tall, with curled brown hair and dark scruff. He was wearing what appeared to be a Sheriff's outfit, and his eyes were a kind, soft blue. "What's your name?"

"Noah," I said, starting to see two of him. "Noah Wrigley."

"How old are you, Noah?" he asked, cautiously but kindly.

"I'm sixteen. No, seventeen. I just turned seventeen," I replied.

"Pretty young to kill all those walkers," he noted. "Is there anyone else with you?"

"Walkers?" was all I could reply.

"The risen dead. The reanimated corpses you took down. Whatever you call them. The important question is, _is there anyone else with you_?"

"No. No one. I'm alone."

Rick stared me in the eye. "If you're lying to me, there will be consequences."

"Why would I lie to you?" I asked, and I could feel my breath becoming labored. "I've been alone for nearly a month."

"How'd you kill all of those walkers, then?"

"I had a knife. I killed some with it, but then it got stuck in one's neck when I missed and I didn't have time to pull it out…so I had to use my gun. But then it ran out of bullets…I was so sure I was dead."

"You almost were," the other guy, who was standing behind Rick, a gun slung over his shoulder. He was Asian, with short dark hair and steely, firm eyes. "Rick killed the walker that was on you right before he took a bite out of your neck."

I looked up at Rick, meeting his gaze for the first time. He looked back at me questioningly, as if trying to understand everything about me in just a couple of moments. "Thank you for saving me," I finally breathed, and then I felt myself pitch forward as everything rushed into blackness.

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	2. CHAPTER 2: Included

_Chapter 2: Included_

"Rick, what are we going to do with her?" Glenn asked, looking down at the girl who had just fainted. Rick was leaning over her, checking her pulse and rolling up the sleeve of her jacket. She had a pretty good cut, and he knew they needed to stop the bleeding right then. He took off his own jacket and began to wrap it around her arm, tightening it and tying the sleeves together so it would stay secure. "We can't just leave her."

"No," Rick replied, sweat dripping off his brow. "No we can't. We're taking her back with us."

"You know Shane won't like that."

"To hell with what Shane wants. She's just a kid, and she needs help."

"What are you going to do, carry her back?"

Rick looked up at Glenn, exasperated. "Well, what else can I do? Now, you take her backpack, and see if you can find that knife she was talking about in one of those walkers. Every weapon counts. I'll carry her, and then we need to get going. Those gunshots alone could attract a ton of walkers, not to mention all the blood from her arm."

"Alright." As Glenn scavenged the dead bodies for Noah's knife, Rick took a closer look at the girl he was trying to save. She was slight, a bit undernourished and wiry. She was probably about five feet, five inches tall, and she had dark red hair that was pulled back into a braid, and when they had been open he had seen her hazel eyes, green and amber. She was pretty, but almost too pretty, in a way that a typical high school cheerleader was—hell, she probably had been—and somehow she had managed to live on her own in the shithole of a world? If he was being honest with himself, that didn't make much sense. But he couldn't just abandon her. Not this girl, who was almost young enough to be his daughter, who didn't have a single person in the world, whose life was literally in his hands.

"I've got the knife!" Glenn called to him.

"Good," Rick replied. "Let's get out of here."

He slid his arms under her body and lifted her up, hugging her to his chest in an effort to not drop her. She was surprisingly light, almost birdlike in that way. They started walking towards camp in silence, both wondering what the hell the group would say about this new girl, and praying to whoever was out there to listen that they were making the right choice.

TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD

When I woke up, all I could think about was that damn burger. I could practically taste it, and it was killing me. I could feel myself being jostled around, my legs swinging in the air. For a brief moment, I thought I was dead. It was the only thing that could explain me floating in midair. I peeled my eyes open and took a slight breath as I saw the sky, and trees, and sunlight. And I smelled death.

I lifted my head, only to realize it had fallen against someone's chest. Someone who was moving, breathing. Not someone who was dead. And then I remembered soaking in the morning, and then fleeing, and then fighting, and then being found. It all came back to me in a whirlwind. I tried to free myself from the grip of my savior's arms, but they tightened around me, locking me in.

"Don't you start being difficult, now," he said in a familiar southern voice. "We're almost back at the camp. It's good you've woken up though, you weren't out for too long."

"Why are you helping me?" I asked. "I haven't done anything for you."

"Stop complaining," I heard the other voice say. The Asian guy. "We just saved your life."

"I already thanked you," I said, and I could feel the panic beginning to stir inside of me. "I can't afford to offer much more than that. I only have a little bit of food and water, my knife and my pistol, one other change of clothes, and a tent. I can't give you any of that…I need it…please."

"Relax, sweetheart, no one's taking your gear. We're going to get you help, hopefully clean the wound on your arm."

"So you're not…you don't want anything?" I asked, confused and a little shocked.

"Sure we do," the other boy said, a little laugh in his voice. "We want to get you healed."

I didn't say anything. I waited in silence as Rick carried me farther, and after a few minutes I found the words to speak again. "I can walk," I said. "You don't need to push yourself. What if one of your walkers comes by and only one of the three of us is fit to fight it off? I can manage."

"We're getting close," Rick replied, not breaking his stride. "And you might think you can walk, but you can't. You lost a lot of blood."

I knew arguing would be a colossal waste of energy, and so I turned my head up to stare at the trees as they passed by. "Who are you two?"

"Rick Grimes," said the man who held me. "And that's Glenn. We're with a group of people right outside Atlanta."

"Atlanta?" I exclaimed. "But…there was supposed to be a refuge there."

"It was overrun," Glenn remarked solemnly.

"Atlanta's gone?" I replied in shock. "Wow. I visited once when I was little. It was a cool city."

"You mean you're not from there?" Glenn asked.

"No. I'm from Florida."

He nodded. "Explains the fact that you don't have even a trace of a southern accent. How'd you end up here?"

"I ran. I walked. I had a car, but I had to abandon it. I stole a farmer's horse once, but he was long dead so I don't think it mattered. The horse ran away in the middle of the night a few weeks ago, I was so tired I forgot to tie it up. Poor thing is probably dead now."

"You've made it all this way on your own," Glenn said, and I saw him and Rick exchange an impressed and almost suspicious glance. "Your family…."

"I don't know," I replied stiffly, not wanting to think back to the past like that. "I left them just a little bit before the outbreak."

Rick shifted his hold on her. "So you don't know if they're alive, or dead, or…."

"I have no idea. I don't want to. All I know is my older brother ran off with my little sister the night before I did, and when they didn't come back I knew I needed to go as well."

"And your parents?"

"Better off dead than in this world," was all I said.

Rick didn't say anything back, and I was glad he didn't.

Glenn was silent as well, until about five minutes later he said, "We're pretty much here."

I could hear it. It was a sort of hustle-bustle sound, a sound I hadn't heard in what seemed like years. The sound of chatter, of clanging, of the whistle of feet shuffling across dry grass and dirt. The sound of _life_.

And then we seemed to simply burst into a clearing, and I saw people, and the shock of seeing so much humanity almost knocked me out again.

"We're back!" Rick called out. "And we need someone with medical knowledge!"

Very quickly, almost immediately, a pretty brunette woman ran up, worry creased in her face. "Oh my God, Rick! Who is that? What happened?"  
"We found her in the forest, Lori. She'd just been attacked by a group of Walkers," he said. "She got cut during the fight, and she lost a lot of blood, but she wasn't bitten or scratched. We couldn't leave her."

"No," Lori replied, calming down and brushing her arm across her forehead, wiping sweat away. "Of course not. Let's bring her to our tent, we can help her there."

"Rick!" a loud voice emanated. Rick cursed quietly under his breath. An angry, dark haired, muscular man emerged from behind an old RV, carrying a large gun and looking extremely pissed. "Rick, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm not letting this girl die, Shane, that's what I'm doing," he replied. "I know you want things here to be orderly and inclusive, but we can't just let her die."

"Why not? What has she done for us?" Shane exclaimed, and I realized that maybe people had become worse along with the world. I wanted to disappear, to go back to the morning where everything was quiet and calm. "We can't afford more people, more resources, Rick! We brought you in, obviously, and we're glad you're here, but some stranger?"

"She killed five walkers!" Rick retorted. "On her own! She's been traveling by herself for weeks and she's not dead yet. Survival instincts like that are priceless, Shane. And even if she had nothing to offer Glenn and I would have saved her. We're still alive, and human. Leaving her to be a walker's breakfast is worse than becoming one."

Shane looked frustrated, and for some reason I could tell that maybe he didn't use to be so bitingly harsh. I could tell that he was caving already. "So what, Rick. You gonna put food in her mouth every day? You gonna watch her back, make sure she's being helpful, take the time to bury her if she's killed?"

"If that's what it takes, yes," Rick replied, trying to diffuse the situation with his words. "She's only seventeen, Shane," he continued, his voice slowly switching to a more compelling, pleading tone. As they were speaking I noticed more people approaching to see what the ruckus was. There was a little boy with brown hair hiding behind Lori, a pretty blonde girl standing next to an older blonde woman, a short haired woman clutching a little girl, a slight black woman, an older man with a bushy beard…and others who blurred into the background.

Shane stepped closer to Rick, and in turn to me, and he looked down on me. "What's your name, girl?"

"Noah Wrigley," I said quietly, shocked by being so directly addressed by someone so antagonistic.

He grabbed my arm, the hurt one, and I tried not to cry out in agony. The best I could muster was a gasp of pain. "Shane, what the hell are you doing?" Rick hissed. "She's in pain. You're hurting her."

Shane ignored Rick. "Miss Wrigley, if I get someone to take care of your arm, you're going to pull your weight around here, you got me?"

"Of course," I replied.

"You're going to do your part to ensure our survival?"

"I'll do what I can." My arm was shaking, and I tried my hardest not to let tears fall out of my eyes.

Shane hesitated just one more moment before he let go of my arm and it crumpled against my chest, and Rick tightened his grip on me. "Noah, if you do your part here…well, this group takes care of its own. We'll risk everything to save you if you risk everything to save us. Am I clear?"  
"Crystal," I breathed back.

"Alright," he said. And then as quickly as he showed up, he left.

Rick shifted his weight. "Someone needs to tend to her arm!" he exclaimed. "And someone else needs to bring her some food and water. We'll be in my tent."

He started walking again. "You okay?" he asked, ducking through the flap of a tent and setting me down gently on a couple of blankets. "Shane can be a bastard, but he's good at heart, I swear. I knew him before the world ended, and he and I would have done anything for each other. He's just trying to make sure we're all safe."

"I'm fine," I said, sitting up despite his protests. I looked down at my arm and decided I needed to take off my jacket. I did, slowly pushing it down my arms and past all the dry blood and then I tossed it on the ground. I further examined the cut. It was wide, but it didn't appear to be too deep. In the old world, I'd have needed stitches. In this new age, however, a nice, tight bandage and maybe some antibiotic ointment would have to do. "I just can't even remember how I did this," I said. "I thought my jacket had gotten caught in a branch while I was running from those…you call them walkers. But it couldn't have been a branch…a branch wouldn't have done this." I shook my head and took a deep breath. "And Shane…who can blame anyone for being too careful nowadays. If I was responsible for a group as big as this one, with children, I'd question every newcomer just as severely."

"It's good that you respect that in him," Rick replied. "If you vie for him, he'll have your back to the end of the earth. And you know, you're just a child as well."

At that, I laughed humorlessly. "You know as well as I do that seventeen is practically adulthood now. And I've been on my own for a while. I can handle myself just as well as any adult."

"I know that, but now you're here," he said, eyes softening, and I suddenly had the feeling that he was a father. "You don't have to think just about yourself anymore."

"That's…really nice to know," I said. There was a rustling outside of the tent, and then Lori pushed her way through, towels and water in her hands and a small bag flung over her shoulder.

"Hey there, Noah. You did say your name is Noah, right?" Lori said in a friendly voice, sitting down next to me, her wavy brown hair falling gracefully around her shoulders. I wondered how she managed to keep her hair so nice in this wilderness. I nodded. "That's such an interesting name for a girl. How'd you get it?"

"My mother's younger sister was named Noah," I replied. "I think she died when my mom was in college. So she named me after her."

"That's nice," she said. "I like it. It suits you well, I feel. Noah survived the Great Flood, and now you've survived the apocalypse. Or, at least, the first bit of it."

"I never thought of it that way," I replied.

Rick cleared his throat. "Noah, this is my wife, Lori. If you saw that little boy running around somewhere, he's our son, Carl."

So I'd been right. "Wow. So you managed to keep your family intact through this whole ordeal. That's amazing," I commended. Rick and Lori exchanged an uncomfortable look, and I realized I could have just said something horrible. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, you might have had another child or something, that was so tactless…."

"No, don't worry about it," Lori said, shaking off the rapidly darkening atmosphere. "Carl's our only kid. It's just tough remembering the outbreak."

"Of course, I'm sorry." I knew there was more behind that story, but I didn't push.

"Now I'm just gonna wash off your arm there, and we'll wrap it up and let you rest and get some food in your stomach. You're so tiny, you need some food."

"Thank you," I said. "I feel like I'm in some sort of dream."

"Don't you be confusing dreams and nightmares," she sighed. She then began to wash off my wound, and it stung like something awful, and Rick watched in silence as I bit my lip to keep from crying out. Once it was clean, however, it felt sanitized and ready to heal, and once there was a bandage on it I knew I'd be fine. Lori stood back to admire her handiwork, and then said, "Rick'll stay with you while someone gets you food and water, but then he'll have to go. If anything happens with that arm, holler. I'll see you around."

She crawled back through the hole and I looked over at Rick. "You guys have something really special here."

"Yeah. I just got here a couple days ago, and it's still amazing me."

"A couple days?" I replied, surprised. "So you and your family have been on the run, too?"

Rick gave a wistful smile. "Not quite. Lori and Carl...they fled after the initial outbreak with Shane. He'd been my partner on the force." Again, I noticed his sheriff's uniform. "I was in a coma at the hospital after sustaining a gunshot wound on the job. They thought I was long gone."

"Oh my gosh," I replied, eyes widening in proper horror. "And you just woke up, alone?"

"Alone, confused, terrified, disoriented…there were bodies everywhere, and I would've been killed if not for this man and his son…they saved me, clued me in on what had happened. And they told me about a refugee camp in Atlanta, and I knew if my family was anywhere it'd be there. And by some freak, chance accidents…I ended up here, with them."

I looked at him in shock. "Wow," I finally replied. "That's a miracle. I didn't even know those existed anymore."

"Less of a miracle, more of a very fortunate string of events."

"Call it what you will, Sheriff Grimes. You're luckier than most of us."

"No one's really lucky anymore," he said. "And call me Rick."

The tent opened again, and this time the pretty young blonde girl entered with a canteen and a pack of crackers. "Hey, Amy," Rick greeted. "Thanks for this."

"Of course," the girl, Amy, replied with a smile. "Shane wants to talk with you, Rick."

"'Course he does," Rick sighed. "Feel better, Noah."

"Thanks," I replied. He got up and left, and Amy sat down next to me, handing me the canteen.

"Hi," she said with a grin. "I'm Amy."

"I'm Noah," I replied, gripping the canteen in my hand and unscrewing the cap. I tipped some back into my mouth and relished every bit that slid down my dry throat. She handed me the crackers and I opened them, putting one into my mouth immediately and marveling at the taste of peanut butter. "Thank you so much."  
"No problem," Amy said. "I hope your arm feels better. What'd you do?"  
"Honestly, I have no idea. One minute, I was running from the walkers, and the next…my arm is bleeding and I'm about to be overrun. Rick and Glenn saved me."

"Guess you just weren't supposed to die yet," she replied with a bright smile.

"So what's your story?" I asked. No more explanation was needed. At this point, everyone had a story.

"Not much to it," Amy sighed. "I was a college student going on a road trip with my older sister, Andrea. And then the world ended, and Dale found us, he's the guy who owns that RV, and we found this group. And we're alive, which is more than most could say."

"Amen," I replied with a grin. I looked at her and then said, "I like your shirt. The stars on it…I always liked stars."

"Thanks," she replied. "Although mermaids and dragons and fairies were always more interesting to me. It's kind of a nerdy fascination, though, so don't tell anyone."

I grinned at her. "Your secret's safe with me."

She sat and chatted with me for a while, and for the first time in a long, long, immeasurably long time, I laughed and smiled and felt wanted. Or, at least, I felt included.

And I was suddenly very glad to have found this group.

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	3. CHAPTER 3: Defended

_Chapter 3: Defended_

I was feeling up to moving around and about a few hours later, and so Amy showed me around the camp that they had made into their home. They had been so inventive with the showers, capturing rainwater and developing a neat thing in the trees that let water pour down on command. It wasn't hot or anything, and surely it wasn't much compared to the old world, but compared to what I'd had to do to stay clean the last several weeks it was like a miracle in and of itself.

She introduced me to a few people. Dale, who was an older man with a scraggly white beard and a penchant for fisherman hats and Hawaiian shirts, was the first one I met while standing on two feet. He was kindly, and he owned the RV where everyone used the bathroom and stored their valuables. Next she introduced me to Carol, the kind but shy mother of little twelve-year-old Sophia, and the wife of the distant and honestly quite scary-looking Ed. He didn't seem very nice to me at all; he sat in the corner of his tent, growling as he smoked a cigarette. Next she introduced me to her older sister, Andrea, who seemed nice enough. Something about her was off-putting, though. Maybe it was just because she was a whopping twelve years older than Amy.

I glanced around the camp and saw that Rick and Shane were off to the side, shaking hands. I was glad they had come to some sort of agreement; I hated to be the cause of discord in such a closely knit group.

And then there was a yell, and everyone was running, and Amy urged me to follow, and in a whir of motion everything went from calm hot day to worry and readiness.

We ran into the woods, where a walker was clear as day devouring a deer, its entrails splayed out on the ground and reeking of death and blood. Carl had come upon it, and now he was standing behind Lori, looking scared and intrigued at the same time. Beside me, Amy looked revolted and terrified. I just looked around, wondering if anyone was going to end the poor thing's sorry existence. Rick, Dale, Shane, and a few others joined us, and we all jumped when a rustling came through the woods. Rick pointed his gun, and I wished I had my knife.

But it wasn't a walker. It was a rugged looking man with shaggy hair and a crossbow, carrying a string of squirrels, and only one word really came to mind when I saw him—badass. "That's Daryl Dixon," Amy whispered in my ear. "He and his brother Merle do most of the hunting."

Daryl looked pissed. "That was my deer!" he exclaimed, and his country accent was exceedingly pronounced. "Bastard got my deer!"

"Let's just kill this damn thing," Shane said in disgust.

Dale immediately grabbed a long knife and severed its head, and Daryl just scoffed at him. "What are you, stupid or something? You gotta get it in the brain." Without hesitation, he fired an arrow into the walker's brain, and then pulled it out like it was nothing and stuffed it back in his sheath. He then looked up, and his eyes landed on me. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Noah," I replied simply.

"She's the newest member of this group," Shane said, and I looked over at him, kind of surprised. He just gave me a little nod, and then looked back at Daryl. "And this is Rick. He's Lori's husband and Carl's father," he said, indicating the man who had saved me.

The hunter shrugged. "Fine by me. Now have you guys seen Merle?"

There was an uncomfortable silence from the rest of the group. Daryl, either ignoring this or not thinking it meant anything bad, walked past us and into the camp, calling out, "Merle! Merle, I got us some good game! Merle?"

Rick walked up to him. "I need to talk to you," he said.

"I don't even know you, man," Daryl said, pushing him off. "I'm looking for my brother."

"I know," Rick said. "It's about him."

For the first time, Daryl stopped and listened. "Is my brother dead?" he asked calmly.

"No," Rick said calmly, "but he's not here."

"Then where the hell is he?" Daryl snapped angrily. "You didn't just leave him in Atlanta alone, did you?"  
"He was endangering all of us with his attitude," Rick started. "He could've killed us all. I handcuffed him on the roof of a building. We had to leave him behind, and I'm sorry."

Daryl looked absolutely furious, and honestly I couldn't blame him. "You left my brother handcuffed to a roof? In a city infested with walkers?"

"We did what we had to do."

"So, what, you couldn't find the time to uncuff him while you were making your getaway?" Daryl exclaimed.

A big black man who had seemed nice enough from far away stepped up. "It was my fault, man. I had the key. I went to get him but…I dropped the key. Down a drain."

"Are you kidding me?" Daryl exclaimed, livid.

"But I locked the door leading to the roof up tight, Daryl, I swear," the man kept going. "There's no way any walkers are getting through it."

"So what? You stranded him to starve up there? You're a monster!" He charged Rick, only to be quickly held back by Shane, who put him in some sort of headlock to slow him down.

Rick was looking at Daryl in utter contemplation. "I'll go back," he finally said. "Merle being there is my responsibility. I'll go back to the city to find him."

Before Daryl could respond, Shane released him and walked up to Rick. "I don't think that's such a good idea, man. You just got here, you just reunited with your family…."

"This man doesn't deserve to die like that."

Shane looked pissed. "Rick, look over there at Lori. At your wife. Your son. Don't make them lose you twice."

Rick didn't, but I looked over at Lori and Carl. They were together, her arm slung low across his shoulders, pulling him closer to her. She looked desolate. If I were Rick, I'd have listened to Shane. Maybe he hadn't seen the devastation yet that I had—it was survival of the fittest now. But I admired his basic humanity, his desire to do the right thing. I only hoped it didn't get him killed.

Amy thought the same thing. She leaned to whisper in my ear, "Rick shouldn't do this. He's valuable. We need him."

After some more discussion, it was decided that Glenn, Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog, the black man who had spoken up, were going to go back on a rescue mission for Merle, and also to find a large bag of guns that Rick had dropped on his first trip to Atlanta, which was the only reason Shane seemed approving at all. As Amy and I walked away to go talk to Andrea, I saw Rick conferring with Lori, and while the conversation seemed civil I could tell it was tenuous.

They left, and the camp tried to go on with its usual business. I was still a little incapacitated because of my arm, but I could do some little things. Andrea invited me to go down to the little lake and do laundry and I gratefully accepted, glad to be of some help. There were five of us down there: Andrea, Amy, Carol, Jacqui (the lanky black woman I'd seen earlier), and myself. We carried down the laundry and sat at the edge, scrubbing away. I was a bit more slow than the others, because I couldn't do rough motions with my arms, but I was still able to help, which was nice.

About thirty feet away, Shane was with Carl in the water. I heard him telling the boy how to catch frogs, but it mainly turned into a splash fest, which was honestly just fun to watch. It was amazing how for the first time in weeks, I was able to witness someone just enjoying life instead of trying to protect it. They were smiling and Carl was laughing, and I hadn't seen something more beautiful in a long time.

The women started up with some banter. I kept quiet mostly, listening in on their little snippets of conversation. They were talking about what they missed the most about their old lives, and I grinned when Amy said she missed texting. I had been quite a texter as well, and it was crazy how that was all in the past now. Jacqui lusted after her coffee pot, which I could also sympathize as well. In high school, grades had been all that mattered to me. In my mind, college meant escape. So I drank coffee all the time so I could be alert and able to finish homework. Andrea candidly stated that she missed her vibrator, and after a bit of laughter, Carol stated that she did too. More laughter ensued.

After it quieted down, Amy looked over at me with her usual carefree grin. "What about you, Noah? What do you miss the most from your old life?"

I thought about it, pondering. What did I miss the most? Family, friends, good times…that much was obvious. They didn't want to hear what already echoed in their heads incessantly. So I thought further back. What did I miss the most?

"It sounds stupid," I said aloud. "But I kind of miss Giraffey. He was my stuffed giraffe that I'd had since I was a baby. I never went to sleep without him, even in high school."

"I had a stuffed animal," Amy reminisced with a sigh.

"No," Andrea corrected, "you had a stuffed dragon. Named Rupert."

"His name was _Ronald_," Amy sighed, as if they'd had this conversation a million times. We all laughed again, enjoying the levity of the moment.

"What are y'all laughing about?" a gruff, angry voice said from behind us. We all turned around to see Ed Peletier, Carol's unfriendly husband, standing stiffly behind us on the rocks, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes. "You're supposed to be working."

Andrea's eyes narrowed. "We _are _working, Ed. We're also trying to enjoy ourselves instead of being lazy and smoking those damn cigarettes!"  
"Y'all need to just shut the jabber and clean! This ain't no comedy club!" He took a look at his wife, who shrank back. "C'mon, Carol, we're going."

He grabbed at her arm, and without even thinking, I pushed his hand away. Carol happened to be sitting right next to me, and I had seen that look on her face. I knew that look—one of equal parts fear, humiliation, and submission. And I suddenly hated Ed Peletier, hated what he was and did. What he was going to do to Carol if she went with him. Always pushing, never giving. "We're just helping out," I said softly. "Carol's helping, too."

"Bug off, kid," he growled. "Don't do something you'll regret." He reached for Carol again, and this time Andrea lashed back.

"Don't go with him Carol," she said gently. And then she looked at Ed. "It's time for you to go," she said, pulling Carol back towards her.

By this time we were all standing, and Ed was furious. "Carol, we're going."

I moved between them, pushing his arm away again. "Stop it!" I said in a louder voice, not knowing what else to say, feeling dumb for trying to stop what had undoubtedly been happening for years and years, a cycle yet untouched.

It was like lightning. He grabbed the front of my shirt, and his fist connected with my face, and there were yells and shouts, and he struck me again, harder, before I felt him being ripped away and gentle, comforting arms surrounded me as my ears rang and my head pounded. My eyes were closed as I began to feel the pain and the blood rushing around my head, and suddenly I was being lowered to the ground and voices were chattering over me. There was the sound of sobbing—Carol, I think—and then more shouts as I heard the sound of a man yelling from a few feet away and the thud of multiple punches being thrown. I opened my eyes infinitesimally, only to see Shane beating on Ed's face just a couple yards away.

"Noah?" I heard Amy's voice say. "Noah, are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," I groaned. "Just…headache. 'M 'kay."

"Andrea, I think she needs ice or something," Amy fretted.

"We don't have ice," Andrea replied, worried.

"Then let's just get some water on a rag," Amy said. "It's better than nothing."

"Okay, okay," Andrea said.

"STOP!" Carol was yelling. "STOP IT YOU'RE KILLING HIM! STOP!"

Shane finally quit beating Ed's ugly face in, and he leaned down and whispered something that seemed quite menacing in his ear. Then he got up and started walking towards us. Ed was motionless on the ground, breathing but covered in blood. Carol ran to him, and Shane just kept walking towards us.

"Is she okay?" he asked, and I was shocked to hear the concerned tone in his voice.

I started sitting up, and Amy gently guided me until my back was straight. "She'll be okay," Andrea said, "There's no blood or anything, so he must not have inflicted any serious damage, except for the obvious. And she's coherent. She needs ice, but a wet rag will have to do."

"Can she walk?"

"I…I don't know," Andrea admitted.

"I'm okay," I said, sounding a bit more put together. "Just a headache."

"Can you stand?" Shane asked.

"'Course," I replied. I used Amy as a crutch and slowly got to my feet. When I stood up straight, I let go of Amy's shoulder and took a confident step forward, only for my head to start swirling and pounding and my knees to buckle automatically, and I lurched forward as giant arms curled around me, steadying me.

"There now," Shane said, and there was something in his voice I hadn't heard before. Perhaps pity? I didn't know what it was, and suddenly, for the second time that day, I was being scooped up into the arms of a strong, muscled man. When I had been a younger, more bubbly teenager, that would have made me go practically insane with happiness. Older hot men carrying me around like some sort of damsel in distress…what teenage girl didn't dream about that? Now I was just embarrassed. Being a damsel wasn't quite so intriguing in a world where damsel's were damned to be brutally killed.

"I'm sorry," I grumbled, closing my eyes. The light was suddenly too bright. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to help Carol, I don't want to be a burden. I was trying to help—"

"I know, kid," he replied, seeming resigned. "I know that's all you want. And what's crazy is I know you _can _help," He started walking away, back up towards the camp. "While we're apologizing, I'm sorry Ed's such a bastard. If he weren't the father of Sophia or Carol's husband… I might've killed him. I will next time, if he lays a hand on another person in this camp."

My head was starting to calm down, and the dizziness was subsiding. I didn't want to stretch my luck and ask to start walking, but I was beginning to be confident I didn't have a concussion or anything. "How badly did you hurt him?"

"Badly enough," Shane said.

"Thanks for…for pulling him off of me," I said quietly. "I didn't…didn't know if I'd…if I'd survived all those walkers just to have it ended by…some angry, living person."

Shane nodded. "Well, Noah, I'll promise you this—no one's dying by the hands of a living person here. I'll make damn sure that happens." He paused. "Unless Ed tries to hit his wife, his daughter, or anyone else again. Then I'll make an exception."

He had arrived back at the camp, and the few people up at the top looked in our direction immediately. "What happened?" Dale asked from his post atop the RV. Sophia was up with him, playing with the young Morales girl, whose Hispanic family had also made their residence at the camp.

Shane took one look at Sophia to make sure she was distracted. "Ed," was all he said.

Dave's face grew grim, and soon disappeared from view as Shane took me again inside Rick and Lori's tent, and I felt invasive, as if I were trudging upon the only life they had left. Which was kind of true.

Shane sat me down right where Rick had when I'd first been brought into the camp. He found a rag in one of Carl's duffle bags and then poured some of his own water onto it. Then he pressed it against my head, and the coolness felt divine. "You've had a pretty shitty day, haven't you?" he mused.

"I've had worse," I admitted.

He chuckled a little. "Haven't we all." He took my hand and placed it on top of the rag. "Now you keep your hand on there, and don't let yourself fall asleep just yet. We just want to be careful about the whole concussion possibility. I'll send someone in here to keep you company until that whole thing passes. I've got someone to talk to."

"Lori?" I asked, and then I suddenly wished I hadn't said anything.

Shane's eyes narrowed. "What'cha mean by that?"

"Nothing," I replied quickly. "I just saw you playing with Carl, and then you beat up Ed right in front of him…I don't know, I'd want to talk to her, too."

"Right," Shane said distantly. "Well, yeah, I've got to go. Like I said, I'll send someone in."

He left the tent in a hurry, and I sat up, searching for anything resembling a mirror in the Grimes tent. I eventually found one in a side pocket of one of Lori's bags, pulled it out, and flipped it open. I almost gasped when I looked at my face, which might not seem like a lot, but gasping in shock was something I had trained myself not to do, as it was a sound that could attract walkers. But I couldn't help it. My left cheek and jaw line were already a giant collage of red, purple, and blue, and I had a feeling my eye might swell up. I hoped it didn't.

I cursed aloud, angry that I had been so stupid. How could I have changed anything? Who was I to try and stop something that had undoubtedly been happening for a long time? It wasn't my marriage. It wasn't my life. Why did I even care? How could just a few hours with these people cause me to revert back to the humanitarian ways of the old life?

And now, here I was. Bruised, for a woman I barely knew, in a world that usually didn't allow the compassionate to survive.

I needed to get my shit together.

As the thought popped into my head, there was a rustle outside the tent. I expected Amy to come through, but I was shocked to instead see little Sophia poke her head in. "Noah?" she asked tentatively.

"Hey, Sophia," I replied softly. "Did Shane send you?"

She shook her head. "No, I think he's going to see if Lori will, but I saw what happened down at the lake and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm perfectly fine, Soph," I replied. "It's just a little bruise, it'll be nothing in just a couple days."

"It's not nothing," she said quietly, tucking a piece of caramel hair behind her lightly freckled ear. "It's Daddy."

I didn't know what to say. I just stared at her.

"He never hits me," she said in an equally quiet voice, looking off to the side. "He only hits Mama. He…he does other things to me. I don't want to, but…but he's my daddy. I don't have a choice."

I knew what she was saying, and my heart broke. "Sophia, sweetie, does your mom know this?" I asked softly.

Sophia shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think so. But she doesn't need to know. She already has so much on her mind." She looked at me. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I guess I'm just really, really sorry my daddy hit you." She paused again. "You know, he hasn't done any of those things to me since the world ended. So I guess that's kind of good for me, even though it's bad for all the other parts of life."

I reached over and gently placed my hand over hers. She was a little tanner than I, a little smaller, a little more fragile. Her eyes met mine. "You're a really great girl. Nothing like him, I promise. And…and if he ever tries to touch you again, you tell me, okay? I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

_Damn it, Noah. Stop the compassion. You're going to get yourself killed because of it_.

Sophia's eyes went wide. "Are you…are you sure?"

"I'm positive. I don't care how many times he has to hit me. I won't let him go near you again."

"Thank you, Noah," she replied quietly. Voices started to arise from the camp, and distinct among them was Lori's. Sophia stiffened. "I have to go now. I hope you feel better."

She scurried off, and I was only alone to process what I had just said to Sophia for about thirty seconds before the flap in the tent again opened to reveal Lori. She looked stressed out, and not for the first time I suspected there was something going on between her and Shane. I couldn't have told you what—a romance, a fight, whatever—but it was something. I immediately had the notion I was only adding to her stress. "I'm sorry," I started immediately. "You keep finding me in your tent, it's rude of me. I have a tent of my own, I could set it up now—"

"Oh, hush, Noah, don't be silly," she said, offering me a weak smile. "You're welcome to stay in here for a while." She took a closer look at me and scowled. "Damn Ed. I don't know why we let the bastard stay here. He does nothing except absolutely _plague_ the women, especially his wife. It's despicable. And now he's actually hit someone…." She sat down next to me and gently placed her fingers on my face. "I wish we had some ice for you, but unfortunately…none to be had, anywhere. How's your arm feeling?"

"Fine," I replied.

"It's not. But you're a trooper. And, God, you're only seventeen. Noah, tell me, what's your secret. How'd you last so long on your own?"

Sheer survival instinct. Luck. Right place, right time. God's saving grace. "I don't know."

"Well, I'm sure there's a reason you're still alive."

"Yeah," I scoffed. "So I can be Ed Peletier's punching bag."

"Like I said. He's a bastard. He puts his wife through the ringer every day, and I don't even know about his daughter. Poor Sophia."

"Um…Mrs. Grimes…."

"Lori, Noah. Call me Lori."

"Lori," I corrected. "Sophia came in to talk to me a couple minutes ago. And I don't know why…but she told me…" I wondered why I was telling Lori this. Probably because I shouldn't have to be responsible for knowing Sophia's pain. "…She told me her dad hurts her too. Just…not in the way he hurts her mom, if you know what I mean."

Lori looked at me sharply, and then she sighed. "I always guessed…Sophia's just so quiet, shy. I'll have to tell Carol, you know. She deserves to know that."

"I guess," I replied. "I just…I hate that this kind of thing still happens now, when the world's already evil enough without the living trying to rival it."

"I hate it too," she sighed. "But there's good still. You stood up for Carol. Sophia finally told someone. Rick…Rick came back."

"Little miracles," I realized.

"And big ones. They still exist."

Lori proceeded to chat with me until the sun began to set. It only occurred to me when Amy and Andrea were being lauded outside for catching loads of fish that maybe she was only talking with me to keep her mind off of the fact that Rick hadn't come back yet.

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	4. CHAPTER 4: Decimated

_Chapter 4: Decimated_

There was talk of a fish fry, and I told Lori I was feeling fine. So finally I was let out of the tent and allowed to roam around the camp, helping prepare the food. There was a feeling of content in the air, of satisfaction, of we're-actually-about-to-celebrate-life.

I walked up to Amy, who was helping Dale clean the fish. "Hey."

She looked over. "Oh my gosh, Noah! I'm sorry about earlier, God, Ed's such a dick!"

"Yeah," I laughed. "It's okay. I feel good as new, even if I don't look it."

"Well, at least we get this awesome fish fry!" she replied, and she looked genuinely happy. "I used to do these with my dad all the time, whenever Andrea came home to visit. It was…amazing. Some of the best nights of my life. And now we're going to have one here! I'm hoping it to be the best post-apocalypse night yet!"

I grinned at her, thinking about how lucky I would've been to have a friend like Amy in the real world.

Just as night began to fall, all of the fish had been fried. There was genuine excitement and a sense of camaraderie. And, no doubt, an excitement for actual food. The thought of eating something fried had me giddy, although that could have been partially due to my head injury.

I didn't want to deal with Ed, but Lori informed me that he was perfectly incapacitated in his tent, and that made me happy. So I followed her to the fire, where everyone was sitting in a circle and passing around the fish. I sat by Amy, who looked at me with a broad smile and offered me some food. I gladly took a piece, making sure it wasn't too big, and began to eat.

"This is delicious!" I exclaimed, marveling in the sheer delicacy of it.

"I know right!" she replied back. "I can't stop thinking about my dad. But for the first time…it's in a good way. Not a sad way. If that makes sense."

"It does," I replied. "It sounds like your dad was a really great guy."

"He was," Amy sighed, and then she nudged her sister's arm, who was sitting on the other side of her. "Wasn't he, Andrea?"

The older blonde turned and gave a tired smile. "He was the best." She sighed. "What about your dad, Noah?"

"He was pretty great, too," I said, looking into the fire. "He died, though, when I was nine. Then it was just me, Mom, and my brother and sister. And later Kyle, my stepfather." I sighed. "They're all gone now, but…sometimes I'm okay with it. If they're dead…they're not living in this world, if that makes sense."

Andrea nodded solemnly. "It does."

I looked across the fire at Lori, who ate silently, obviously still worried about her husband. And she had reason to be so anxious. It was night, and they hadn't come back. And that was scary, to potentially lose him when she had just gotten him back. I also hoped Rick was okay. He seemed genuinely good.

Amy was chatting animatedly with her sister, and I watched, happy to be an observer of sisterly happiness. I suddenly felt a pang for my own little sister. Mandy was only ten, and she was everything I could never be in the old world—outspoken, a prankster, confident, unsettlingly intelligent. The only person that I could ever pin as smarter than her was my older brother, Aaron. He was so smart it was scary, and not just book smart. He had impeccable street sense and genuine wit, and for that reason and that reason alone I still held on to the small hope that maybe—just maybe—he and Mandy were still alive. It was a stupid hope, a reckless hope…a dangerous hope. But I couldn't stop it.

Amy gave one last laugh and then stood up. "Where are you going?" Andrea immediately asked.

"I'm going to go pee, Andrea. Can't a girl have a little privacy?"

Everyone gave an appreciative chuckle, and I watched as Amy disappeared inside the RV. I looked at Andrea, and she gave me a grin. "Want to know a secret?" she asked. I shrugged in a _sure _kind of way. She smiled mischievously. "Tomorrow is Amy's birthday. I got her a mermaid necklace in Atlanta. Do you want to see it?"

"Absolutely," I exclaimed, elated to see that someone had managed to remember something as humanly frivolous as a birthday.

Andrea took a little red package out of her pocket and gently unwrapped it. Inside was a small, glass mermaid, pretty and sparkly and altogether very _Amy_. I smiled at her. "She'll love it almost as much as she loves you, Andrea," I replied softly.

Andrea was returning my smile just as a blood chilling scream filled the night.

It was just like a movie, when time slowed down to treacherously slow ticks of the clocks we never paid attention to anymore. We all looked over to the source of the noise, and my heart fell out of my chest and shattered on the ground in a million jagged pieces when I saw what was happening. Amy—sweet, funny, nurturing, beautiful, young Amy—had a walker latched to her arm, which had sunk its teeth into her skin as she screamed away.

There wasn't enough time to properly assess the shocking devastation I felt towards this girl with whom I had been forming a rather rapid friendship, or the agonized cry of grief from Andrea. From the woods flooded walkers, and the screams of Carl, Sophia, and the Morales children permeated the night.

After that it was utter and complete chaos. Screams and gunshots filled the air as the fish and fire were forgotten and everyone proceeded to run for their lives. Some of the campers went down immediately—men and women I hadn't really met yet, who I didn't have time to mourn. My head was pounding, but no one was saving me this time. I had to fight through it, or die.

I searched around me for a weapon of any kind, and by the fire I saw a poker that Carl had been using to play with the fire. I quickly grabbed it, ignoring the flare of pain that ignited my shoulder. I was just in time, too, as a walker snarled behind me and without thinking I stabbed through the air, catching it in the jaw, and shoved upward. I didn't have time to even register whether this walker was male, female, young, or old—another was upon me. I dispatched it with the same haste as before.

I shut my brain off, trying not to let fear paralyze me, as I scanned the area around me, gauging the immediate danger. No walkers were coming after me at that moment, but I heard a particularly shrilly scream and looked around me. Sophia was cornered by a tree, two walkers descending on her at a sickeningly quick rate. My brain switched back on as the fear of her dying clung to my heart. I ran to her, hearing her mother's screams in the background, and quickly killed one of them. The other kept going and Sophia cried out, terrified and frozen. My poker was still in the other walker's head. I did the first thing I could think of. I reached out, grabbed the walker's shoulder, and turned it towards me.

"Run!" I yelled at Sophia. She didn't need telling twice. She leapt towards her mother, who was being semi-protected by Shane and some other members with guns. And then the walker fell on me and I wrestled with it, suddenly coming to terms with the fact that I was about to die. I had no weapon, no brute force…the thing's hideous face neared mine, teeth gnashing and eyes open and lusting.

And then an arrow appeared through its forehead, killing it instantly. It fell on top of me and I pushed it off, disgusted. I looked up for my savior and saw Daryl a few feet away.

"You alright, kid?" he called. I nodded. "Keep the arrow. Don't waste it."

And then he continued on fighting.

I didn't think twice. I pulled the arrow out of the walker's head with a sickening squelch and wielded it as if it were a dagger. I saw Rick, Glenn, T-Dog, and Daryl coming back into the camp, carrying new guns and more manpower, and a bud of hope appeared in my chest.

I don't know how long I mindlessly killed walkers for. Seconds, minutes, hours. All I remember was one minute I was stabbing the arrow through my tenth walkers head, and the next…silence.

I glanced around to see who was still standing. All of the Morales family, Dale, the Grimes family, Shane, Daryl, Carol, Sophia, Jacqui, Jim, Glenn, T-Dog. I looked frantically for anyone else, and then my heart plummeted in my chest as I saw Andrea crouched over a blonde figure on the ground, and I knew it was Amy, and I knew by the way Andrea was shaking and moaning in agony that her sister was dead.

A twig snapped behind me and I whirled around, gripping my bloodied arrow tightly in my hand, ready to send it into a walker's skull without hesitation. Instead, I was face to face with Rick, who held up his hands. "Just me, kiddo," he said reassuringly. My hand fell to my side, listless. "You okay?"

"Amy…." I had to hear it out loud to really believe it.

He shook his head, and I nodded, trying not to show how devastated I was. "Noah, are you hurt at all?"

"No," I said quietly. The remaining survivors were moving again, assessing the total loss. I saw Lori holding Carl in the background, rocking him from side to side. "I'm glad you made it back, though. We'd all be dead if you hadn't brought those guns."

"You're hurt," he said, dismissing my thanks. "Your face…."

"That didn't happen during the attack," I replied softly. "It happened before. It's the least of our concerns right now."

Before he could ask how, or who, I was past him, to Daryl, who was already back at work, dragging the bodies of walkers into a pile. He didn't say anything as I walked up to him, but I knew he knew I was there. "I'm sorry about your brother," I told him after a few moments. I figured since Merle hadn't returned with them, perhaps T-Dog's defenses weren't as good as he had thought.

"He's still alive out there. He escaped. That's good enough for me," Daryl grumbled, not pausing his work.

"I have your arrow," I said, changing the subject. "The one you killed that walker with. Without it…I wouldn't have lasted two seconds after you saved me."

"Keep it," he said without hesitation. "Until Rick or Shane let's you have your gun and knife back…just keep it."

"Are you sure?" Ammunition was about as necessary to survival nowadays as food and water, and the fact that he was willing to give up even one arrow for a stranger like me was…incredible.

"If you've lasted this long, kid, you might be valuable. And you need some kind of weapon. That arrow will do until you find something better."

I stared at the arrow in my hand. It was gross, bloodied, and yet somehow it hadn't broken or worn down. "Thanks."

The next hours, as the sun made the red of our campsite even darker, were nightmarish. I dazedly helped drag the bodies of walkers into a pile which we were going to burn, and I watched as the men arranged what remained of the bodies of our people for burial. I watched, deadened.

Some of them I didn't really know, but it was still sad to see them in various forms of desecration. Except for one person. When Shane dragged a mostly eaten Ed Peletier out of his tent, I couldn't bring myself to feel too bad. Maybe he deserved it, maybe he didn't. All I know is in comparison to the loss of someone as sweet and selfless as Amy, his was minor. It was crazy to think that just a few hours before he had hit me. It was crazy to think that a little over twenty-four hours before, I was on my own in this hellish world. Twenty-four hours before, all I could think about was a burger.

Carol came up to me a little while later. She'd been crying. "Noah?" she asked tentatively as she approached.

I let go of the walker I'd been dragging. "Yeah?" I replied, wiping the sweat off my forehead.

"I…Lori told me what Sophia told you," she said, her lower lip trembling slightly. "I…I just want to thank you for finally getting her to open up. I always…I always suspected but…I didn't want to believe it, I just couldn't…."

"It doesn't matter now," I said. "He'll never hurt her again. And she's so strong, Carol. She'll be just fine, I know it."

"I know, I just needed to say thank you. And that…you belong here. No one can dispute that now."

She turned without another word, and I kept an eye on her for the next hour or so. And I watched as she approached Daryl, telling him she should be the one to stab her dead husband in the head, ensuring he wouldn't reanimate. And he lent her the weapon, and I stared as she sent the blade through his head over and over and over again, finally dissolving into furious tears as she continued. I wish tears came easily for me. Tears would allow me to convey my despair without saying words. But I didn't have the luxury of an endless supply of tears.

I guess it was because I knew in a world such as the one I lived in, I needed to save my tears for the sadder occasions that were sure to come.

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	5. CHAPTER 5: Relocated

_Chapter 5: Relocated_

The next day was a blur. We buried our dead and burned the walkers. Andrea stayed by Amy's side and allowed her to reanimate, despite everyone's warnings, and then she put the bullet into my friend's head to end it all. I saw the flash of a mermaid necklace dangling from Amy's neck as they wrapped her in a blanket. When they buried her, I almost cried, but withheld my tears. Amy would understand that I couldn't cry for her. She would understand that'd be too easy a way to grieve.

There was talk of heading for the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta, and while everyone else seemed skeptical of this idea, produced by Rick, I had no qualms. I'd been wandering alone for a long time. A little more wouldn't hurt.

There were more developments as well. Jim had been bitten. I didn't know Jim all that well, but I knew he'd lost his entire family to the walkers before he'd joined the camp. And I also knew as well as any other that his number was up; there was no helping him.

I was almost with Shane on this battle. He wanted to just end Jim's misery right there and then. But Rick had hope in the CDC. And while I lacked the faith that the CDC had anything good in store for us, I still trusted that being a part of a group was better than being alone.

After lots of debating and tiresome arguments, we packed up what remained of the camp and made for our cars. The Morales family backed out at the last minute, and Rick gave them a gun to defend themselves with as they tried to find some family in Alabama. I looked at little Eliza Morales as she handed her doll to Sophia, and I wondered if I'd ever see her alive again. And then I realized that was a stupid question to ask myself, and I sent up a little prayer for them and watched them disappear as our cars pulled out of the campsite.

I rode in the van with Rick, Lori, Carol, Carl, and Sophia. I felt kind of awkward being the only one there with no family or company of any kind. I guess Rick kind of felt like I was his responsibility because he saved me. I didn't want that. Of course I was eternally grateful that he saved me from a certainly gruesome death, but at the same time I didn't want him to feel that anything that happened to me from there on out was somehow connected to him. He had enough to worry about with the group and his family. He didn't need to worry about me at all. I mean the first time he'd seen me was just a day ago.

Granted, in this new world, a day was a lot longer than it used to be.

Carl looked over at me about halfway through the trip. "How come you have red hair?" he asked casually.

I grinned at him. "Well, both of my parents had brown hair, but my dad had a redheaded uncle and my mom's mom had red hair, so somehow I ended up with it."

"It's so pretty," Sophia said, and then she looked sadly at her own hair. "Mine's just brown."

I immediately put on my most affronted face. "Just brown? Sophia, your hair is much more than _just brown_. Take a look," I said, gently pulling a lock of her hair out for her to see. "Look at how the sun catches it. It's brown and gold and copper and beautiful. I promise."

She beamed at me and I grinned back, and I looked up to see Rick, Lori, and Carol grinning in the front seat. Carl poked my arm and I looked back at him. "Noah, how come you don't have any family with you?"

"Carl," Rick warned.

"It's fine," I told him. People would find out sooner or later. Secrets were stupid to keep in those times. "My real dad died a long time ago, when I was nine. Then my mom got married again, and…well, life happened, and then the apocalypse happened. My older brother ran off with my younger sister the day before I left, and I'm guessing my mom and stepdad tried to stay together too."

"Why did your brother and sister leave you?" Carl asked.

I glanced out the window, thinking that maybe this little boy was too intuitive for his own good. "I don't really know, Carl."

"Why did you leave your mom and stepdad?" he asked.

"Carl, that's enough," Rick said sternly.

"It's fine, really," I said. I turned to Carl again. "I left them because they wouldn't have kept me alive. They didn't really care about me. When Aaron and Mandy—my brother and sister—when they left, I knew I had to go too."

"Where did you live?" Sophia asked.

"A small town in northern Florida," I replied.

"How'd you get all the way up here?"

And they continued asking me questions that ranged from silly to informational, and as the minutes passed by I felt like I belonged more and more.

We left Jim by the side of the road.

I couldn't look at him. I couldn't even get out of the car. I stayed with Carl and Sophia as they left him sitting against the tree to succumb to the fever and eventually turn.

It was what he wanted. He begged us to just let him die, to not drag it out. We were doing him a favor, granting his last wish, respecting his own plan for himself.

Whatever you called it, it still felt wrong. And sad. And unfair. And I still didn't cry.

We started the car back up and no one talked for a long time. That was fine with me. I didn't need to talk to fill the void. Until Rick looked into the rearview mirror and I could feel his eyes on me.

"What happened to your face, Noah?" he asked grimly. "It wasn't because of walkers, was it?"

It was then that I noticed we were the only two left awake in the car. Both Carl and Sophia were slumped against me, and Carol had her head against the glass of the passenger seat window. Lori as well was asleep, her head resting lightly on Carol's headrest. I looked back at him, making brief eye contact. "No," I said softly. "It wasn't a walker."

"Who?"

"Ed Peletier," I said quietly. "He was going to hurt Carol, I could tell, so I tried to stop him but instead he came at me. If Shane hadn't pulled him off of me…." I sighed, glancing out the window. "I couldn't bring myself to care that he died. I felt…I _feel _like a horrible person because of that. But he was so rotten, and in light of someone like Amy, who was so good and kind…his death just seemed, I don't know, somehow more…justifiable."

Rick stared at me, although I realized he was actually just staring at the bruises on my face. "Ed's lucky it was Shane out there and not me," he said finally.

"Why?"

"Because if I had seen him hit you, I might have killed him right then and there. Hell, you're only a teenager. This world hits us hard enough on its own. And Lori told me what he did to his own daughter…it's sickening. I'm not sorry the bastard's dead."

I didn't know what to say. I was quiet for a moment, and then the words tumbled out of my mouth. "It doesn't matter anymore. Ed's dead, and this bruise will fade, and no one will hurt Carol or terrorize Sophia anymore. Well, no one living, that is."

Rick looked back at me, also quiet for a moment. "It was brave of you, to step up for Carol. I'm…I'm glad I didn't just leave you back in the woods to die."

I grinned. "I'm glad you didn't, too."

"Speaking of…how's your arm?"

"It's doing alright," I said. "Healing as fast as it can. There's no infection or anything, I think, so that's good."

"Yeah, good," Rick replied. "Good." There was a brief moment's pause in which I thought the conversation was over, and then he spoke again. "Noah, can I ask you a question that you have to answer truthfully?"

I considered it for a moment. The truth was sometimes a dangerous thing. It could ruin or destroy a relationship, and considering Rick and this gang of humans was all I had at this point, I couldn't afford for this one to fail. But I trusted Rick. Even though I'd only known him for a short while, I trusted him. "Yes."

"Do you blame me for all those deaths? I left the camp, I took three of our best fighters with me…."

"No," I said immediately. "We were low on weapons. If you hadn't brought those guns back…God knows if any of us would still be alive. I mean…you're never going to escape the fact that when those walkers were on us, you weren't there. But you were out risking your lives to help someone, and to bring back weapons for us. You couldn't have known. You were doing the best you could. And honestly, who can ask for more than that?"

He looked over at me. "Thanks for that. I wish everyone else was as…understanding as you."

"It's one of my many admirable qualities," I said with a slight grin. Then I sighed, thinking about how the last person who had told me that I was so understanding was my favorite teacher in high school, and how he was probably now dead, or worse.

"You know…I'm sorry that you're alone. I still don't know how you managed on your own for so long. But I hope that…I don't know…you somehow find family again. Whether it's your actual one or something new."

"Thanks. And you…you're doing a good job keeping your family together. Don't let that go."

"I won't," Rick assured me. "Now you should really get some sleep. You've been awake for a long time, and you never known when you'll be able to get some shut eye."

"You'll be okay without the company?" I joked.

He gave me a wry grin. "I need the time to think, anyway."

I nodded, and I leaned my head back against the seat, wondering if it was even possible for me to fall asleep with my mind filled with so many horrifying images: Ed's fist flying towards my face, Amy screaming in anguish as a walker fed on her arm, Carol crying as she stabbed Ed's body over and over again, Sophia looking away in shame as she told me her darkest secret, a walker closing in on me, gnashing its teeth and hungering for my demise….

And then the images were gone, and I was asleep.

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	6. CHAPTER 6: Salvaged

_Chapter 6: Salvaged_

TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD

Rick drove on, conscious that everyone in the car was asleep. His wife and son, Carol and Sophia. And Noah, the new girl with the hazy past and wide eyes. Her head was on the headrest to the left of her, and Carl had fallen into her lap, gently snoozing, the hellish world gone for just a moment. Rick felt like he was in an eternal state of shock—shocked to have found his family, shocked to have discovered this teenage girl all on her own, shocked to have already started feeling responsible for her, shocked to see all those people around him dying, shocked to see Andrea shoot her reawakened sister in the head, shocked to hear Jim say he wanted to be left behind, shocked that the dead were rising and walking and killing. It felt like it'd been ages since he'd really felt something human, and as he looked back at his son using Noah as a pillow, and Sophia as well resting her head against Noah's shoulder, and then looking at Lori, snoozing delicately beside him…he remembered why he fought through all the shock to get here in the first place.

He didn't want to lose any of them. Not a single one.

And the new girl. He had no idea why he felt so close to her. Maybe it was because she was estranged, alone, and independent, and he could relate to that. Or maybe it was because she had this innate ability to calm his nerves or to set them alive with fear that she was in danger. Or maybe it was the simple fact that at the end of the world, the only people left alive are bound to form connections with the rest of the living, and this girl was no exception.

Rick's father had always wanted a granddaughter, and he had joked around that he would call Rick's firstborn Carly even if it was a boy. Of course, once Carl was actually born, Granddaddy Grimes dropped the charade and loved his grandson dearly, but it was no secret that he wanted his son to have a little girl.

If Rick had ever been honest with himself, he wanted one too. When his dad had passed away from cancer when Carl was four, he promised himself when he had a girl he'd tell her all about Granddaddy Grimes.

Of course, the possibility of a daughter was nonexistent now. But looking at Noah, Rick wondered if this wasn't the universe giving him a second chance. Sure, it's not like he raised her, but she was still young and parentless. She was probably never going to see her family again. Would it be so bad to try and fill the gap in her life?

The caravan kept on going until they had finally reached Atlanta. He pulled up to a curb, the CDC in sight, along with an abhorrent amount of dead bodies and some straggling walkers. He woke everyone up, stifling a laugh as Carl jumped up after realizing he'd been lying on top of Noah. She just grinned sleepily, gently coaxing Sophia awake and then unbuckling her own seatbelt. "Do I get my knife back?" she asked Rick.

He looked at her and thought back to how she'd treated his kid and Sophia, and he knew that for better or for worse, he trusted her. "Yeah. And when we find ammo for your pistol, you can have that back as well."

She nodded. "Thank you."

He fished her knife out from their bag of weapons and handed it to her. She gripped it in her hand, her fingers clenching around it naturally. Rick reminded himself that she'd been on her own for a while—she knew how to take care of herself.

They all grouped together and started to make their way towards the CDC doors. The sun was falling, and Rick was starting to get a tense feeling in his chest. What if no one was there? What if this was all for naught? But he couldn't think like that. Those kinds of thoughts would get them all killed.

Carl clung to his mother as they made their way through the courtyard in front of the CDC. It was fraught with bodies and a few walkers, which they dispatched easily and quietly. Rick could see Sophia staying close to her mother, and Andrea walking silently by Dale. She was still grieving. Rick could see the intense pain in her expression.

Noah walked separate from everyone else, lagging behind. At first Rick thought it was from pain; after all, in less than forty-eight hours she'd skewered her arm and been clocked in the face by a full grown man. But then he looked at her more closely, and he knew it wasn't that. She took the back because she knew that meant she'd be the first killed in an attack. She meant it as a sacrifice.

Rick didn't have time to talk her out of it. If they came out of this, he'd approach her later. She was barely seventeen. She didn't even know life yet. She didn't really know sacrifice.

"Rick," a warning came from Shane, and Rick looked up. They had made it to the CDC doors, and they were shut tight. There wasn't even the slightest bit of movement.

Except for the walkers, which were encroaching upon the group at a much denser rate. Rick banged his fist on the doors. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "Open up. I know you're in there!"

Nothing.

Not even an echo.

He yelled again. "C'mon, you're in there, I know it! Let us in!"

"Rick, we've got to go, if we stay here we'll die!" Lori called to her husband, and he looked around. Walkers were everywhere. Daryl and Shane started firing their weapons, but it wouldn't be enough, and he knew it.

And then he saw it. The slightest bit of movement. The security camera. It moved.

"I know you're in there!" he yelled, galvanized. He hit the door again. "Let us in! Let us in!"

"Rick, honey, we've got to go!" Lori cried.

"You're killing us!" Rick practically screamed. "You're killing us!"

Sophia screamed, and Rick looked over and saw a walker getting close to her. It was quickly killed by Daryl before it could get too close to her, but still, it had been too close. Suddenly there was a presence beside him, and when he looked to his right he saw Noah.

"I know you know there's someone in there," she said quietly. "But if they don't open that door, leaving now is our only chance at surviving."

He stared at her, and saw the sense she was saying. "You're killing us!" he yelled once more, and then began to lead the group back towards the cars.

There was a screech behind them, and the doors began to open.

Light flooded over them.

And Rick knew that, for tonight at least, they would be okay.

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	7. CHAPTER 7: Treated

_Chapter 7: Treated_

The inside of the CDC was dark, daunting, and disappointing.

But not nearly as dark, daunting, and disappointing as Dr. Edwin Jenner, who came to greet us after we entered. The sole inhabitant of the CDC. The only one there in that big, empty building.

It was clear the moment we realized no one else was there except for him. There really was no hope anymore. The world had been shot to hell and was never, ever coming back.

I honestly couldn't tell you a lot about that night. Everyone was celebrating our safety, despite the newest grim outlook on life in general, and someone handed me a drink and I just took it. Who cared if I was under twenty-one? It's not like anyone was around to enforce the old laws, even though Rick and Shane had been in law enforcement. And who cared that I'd seen what alcohol did to people who abused it like my stepfather? I deserved a little break. Besides, my shoulder had been bothering me for the last hour or so, and I figured a bit of alcohol might take the edge off of it.

It was Daryl who offered me the booze. Unlike Glenn, who looked a little baffled at the thought of alcohol, I took it immediately and didn't say a word. I choked it down, despite the fact that it didn't really appeal to my taste buds, and tried to ignore Rick's disapproving look. It didn't really matter what he thought, because he'd had enough to knock him out for the night. I noticed as much when I watched him stumble off to bed, looking for Lori and Carl. By that time I was completely wasted, and I had a feeling I wasn't going to remember much the next morning.

I had one thing to do before I lost consciousness. I searched everywhere for Andrea, and finally found her in one of the rooms, lying on a bed in quiet. Her eyes were wide open.

"Andrea?" I said, hearing the slur in my voice.

"Noah?" I was surprised at how clear her voice was. She couldn't have had a sip of all the free booze. "How much did you have to drink?"

"A lot," I said, taking a step in the room. "I wanted to say something to you."

"What?" she replied.

"I'm really sorry about Amy," I said, and then I started laughing. "It's funny, isn't it, how someone like me, who has no one caring about them at all, is spared, while someone like Amy, who is so loved and cherished by you and Dale, dies? It's almost comical. But that's this world, isn't it? How brutal and real and sickening is it. Why am I even trying?" My laughs turned into coughs, and then I realized I was going to be sick. I made a beeline to the little bathroom in Andrea's room and started to throw up into the toilet.

Andrea was at my side immediately, pulling my hair back. "God, Noah, how much did you drink?"

"A lot," I repeated, and then retched again.

When I was done, I sat back against the wall and wiped my mouth with a towel. My head felt equal parts fuzzier and clearer at the same time, and it was hell. "I'm sorry," I said. "What I said…I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. When I was seventeen I did far worse things when I was drunk. I know you don't really find Amy's…what happened to Amy funny."

"Andrea, can I crash on your floor tonight?" I asked. "I don't want to move anymore."

She nodded. "Of course. But you take the bed. Honestly, I know you need it more than I do."

"No, it's fine, I'm drunk, I won't even remember sleeping on the floor—"

"You're a hammered seventeen-year-old with a gouged out arm and a beaten in face. You're taking the bed."

I didn't argue any further. Andrea led me to the bed, which I fell down upon immediately. A real, actual bed. It'd been so long. There was a pillow beneath me, a mattress, and blankets to cover myself with. A real miracle. I could barely feel Andrea pulling the shoes off of my feet and placing an extra blanket over me, and I fell asleep clutching the pillow in my hand and thinking of Amy.

The next morning was painful and sluggish. My head was swimming, and I relished the pillows and the mattress for about ten minutes before forcing myself up and into the bathroom. I looked into a mirror, shocked and yet not really shocked by my appearance. I was kind of one big mess. My hair was mussed and tangled, the bruises on my face from Ed were dark and prominent, and I was a little too thin. Even though I'd gotten a little tanner since the world ended, I was still pretty pale, courtesy of my redhead genes. My eyes were the same plain hazel, and I remembered the days when I used to rim them with eyeliner and mascara and cover my freckles with makeup. Those days were long gone. I hadn't even seen a tube of mascara in weeks.

Andrea had already left the room, so I decided to take a shower, hoping that would numb some of the throbbing madness that was drumming in my head. I could have died when I realized there was hot water. As steam filled the bathroom, I shed my clothes and stepped into the shower. It was bliss, even though my headache ruined it a little bit. I ran my fingers through my hair as the water poured down over my head. I found some soap, shampoo, conditioner, and even a razor. It was like a little piece of heaven.

I limited myself. There was no use in getting too attached to the luxury of a shower. After I was sufficiently cleaned, I wrapped my hair up in a towel and stepped out. I grabbed my one other change of clothes, a pair of dark denim pants and a loose white button down with a new bra and pair of underwear, and laced up my boots, and put my knife in my pocket. I found a little plastic baggie to put my dirty clothes in and then shoved all of my other things into my backpack. I looked longingly at the bed, where the pillow was. It wasn't a super thick pillow. I didn't think about it before I did it, I just grabbed the pillow. It folded into a surprisingly small little section, and it fit into my backpack nicely. I zipped everything up, slung the bag across my shoulder, took the towel off my head, and pulled my hair into a sloppy wet bun before finally stepping out of the room.

Everyone was eating breakfast, looking miserable as they nursed hangovers. I was overwhelmed to see that they were eating eggs—powdered eggs, no doubt, but still, eggs. They all looked up at me as I walked in, and Lori offered me a seat by her. I sat down silently, not even noticing as T-Dog gave me a plate. After a belated thank you, I dove into the food as eagerly as everyone else.

"Did you sleep well?" Lori asked after a little bit, glancing at me sideways.

"Kind of," I grumbled.

She grinned. "I take it you've never had anything to drink before."

"Never. And never again."

Everyone grinned a little at that. Even Dr. Jenner, who had seemed to be decidedly against smiling ever. I looked at him, and he met my gaze.

"Those bruises look a little better this morning," he said to me, gesturing towards my face. Everyone quieted down as he pointed them out. I nodded, not knowing what else to say. "How'd you get them?"

"Tripped," I replied quickly. "The end of the world doesn't cure clumsiness it seems."

Dr. Jenner looked around at everyone else, obviously not buying my story. The narrowed eyebrows of Shane and Rick probably told him all he needed to know. He looked at me again. "Were you able to put any ice on it? Or take any swelling medication or anything?"

"No," I replied. "Ice and medicine are a little hard to come by these days."

"Not here, they aren't," he said, giving me a little half grin. "C'mon, I can get you something for that."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "You don't have to waste your supplies on me."

"Of course," he replied. "There's no one else here for me to give this stuff to, and I don't think I'm going to be tripping quite as badly as you did any time soon."

I blushed a little bit, but I took one more bite of eggs and then stood up and followed him to another room. He opened up a cabinet and told me to sit down in a chair. He pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and handed me an ice pack, which he had pulled out of a tiny refrigerator. "Here you go," he said. "What's your name again?"

"Noah. And thanks," I replied, taking two of the pills and putting the ice pack against my head.

"You have blood on your shirt," Dr. Jenner noted, pointing towards my clothes. "Is that from one of the reanimated?"

"What? No I changed clothes—" I looked down to see the shoulder of my shirt stained with a little blood. "Oh, that's nothing. Just a scratch."

"Do you want me to take a look at it?" he said. "I'm not a medical doctor, but my old man was, and he taught me a lot."

"Well, I don't know, I mean it's just a scratch," I repeated.

"What'd you scratch it on?" he asked, switching gears.

"I…I honestly don't know," I replied truthfully. "I was running from a walker…and I just got snagged…."

"Oh, so now it's a snag, not a scratch?" Dr. Jenner asked with the barest of grins. I just shrugged, despite the pain the simple motion wrought. "C'mon, just let me look at it."

"It's okay, really," I said quickly, wanting to just melt away into the background and escape somehow.

"Is there something you don't want me to see?" he asked, concerned. The look on his face darkened. "Have you been bitten? Or scratched?"

"You took my blood when I came in, you know I'm not infected," I replied, but my heartbeat quickened.

"Then let me help you. I can help lessen the pain, and make sure there's not an infection. You're friends out there, they're smart I'm sure, but they don't have the antiseptic and antibacterial tools that I have."

I took a deep breath. "Okay."

"Good," Dr. Jenner replied. "Now I need you to unbutton your shirt about halfway so that you can easily push down the sleeve on your arm."

I did as he told me, knowing I was about to reveal a little bit more than just the wound I'd gained the day before. It was the reason I'd been so hesitant for him to help me in the first place.

My stepdad and I hated each other long before he married my mom. In fact, he had been my middle school math teacher, and I had complained about him so much at home that my mother had finally set up a parent teacher conference with him to sort out my issues. And I guess it was love at first sight, because soon enough he was coming over to my house and spending the night in my mom's room, and then suddenly there was a rock on her finger and there were wedding bells in the air. And I never hated him less.

He was raging. He wasn't a drunkard, although on the rare occasion he had a drink he'd get a whole lot worse; he wasn't an addict. But he had a serious problem with anger. And he would take it out on us, the kids, and scare us enough to never tell our mom, although I suspect she knew. But he had her brainwashed, and she really just loved him to pieces, and she was so blind to his faults that it hurt all of us.

Aaron, my older brother, tried as hard as he could to take the force of the blow. He tried so hard to stand in front of every swung fist, ever steel-toed boot flying Mandy's and my way. But he couldn't take them all. Our stepdad was a menace, and he had left more than his fair share of scars to prove it.

One of those scars was located right on my collar bone, and it stretched across my shoulder, where Dr. Jenner would surely see it. It had happened one night when Aaron was out late working, trying to get enough money to go to college. My stepdad got pissed off at Mandy because she spilled her chocolate milk all over the couch, which was "just reupholstered, you worthless bitch" and "unfixable, you ungrateful, stupid whore". I honestly couldn't have told you where he came up with his insults—nowhere of any substantial merit, because how anyone could call a six-year-old a bitch and a whore was beyond me. And I had watched as he knocked a china plate onto the floor from the china cabinet in anger, and then picked up a broken half and hurled it at Mandy. He missed, but she was too frozen with fear to run away, and so when he picked up the second half of the broken china, I quickly pushed her to the side and was surprised when it hit me square in the shoulder.

Aaron had been forced to take me to the hospital. I had needed twenty-four stitches.

As I slid the sleeve of my shirt down, I saw Dr. Jenner's eyes glance across the scar. "Is that from another one of your bouts of clumsiness?"

"Yes."

"Hm," he replied darkly, and then said no more before assessing the recent damage that the walker chase had done to me. "Well, it looks decently cared for, although you definitely needed to change your bandages. I'm just going to clean it even more thoroughly and patch you up even better."

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"Of course," he replied, dismissing my thanks with a wave. He poured some medicine onto a cotton ball and began to gently swipe it across the wound. I gasped at the sharp stinging sensation it brought, tears of pain prickling in my eyes. "It'll stop hurting in a second," he assured me, and then he layered some sort of gel on top of it, initiating an immediate cooling sensation. "Better?"

"Better," I affirmed.

"Now, can you slide your arm out of the sleeve so that I can bandage you properly? I'll have to bind it around your entire shoulder for it to be secure."

"Okay." I did as he told again.

As he bent over me to start the bandaging process, the door squeaked open behind him. I saw Rick walking in, concern on his face. "Hey! What the hell are you doing to her?"

I guess from his perspective it could have looked a little off. The doctor hovering over me, my shirt half removed from my body. "It's fine," I said reassuringly. "He's just checking on my original wound while he's at it."

"Oh. Okay. Right. Sorry." He looked tired and embarrassed.

"It's alright," Dr. Jenner said. "Suspicion is a very safe thing." He finished up the bandage and grinned at me. "You're all set now."

"Thanks," I replied, pulling my shirt back up and buttoning it.

Dr. Jenner gave me a grin. "Why don't you go finish your breakfast? I could see you hadn't had all that you could eat before."

"Okay," I replied, just ready to get out of the room. Dr. Jenner had been gracious, but he set me on edge. And I didn't like being so uneasy. "Thank you again."

And I left.

TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD

The moment Noah was out of earshot Rick took two steps towards the doctor. "She's okay, isn't she?"

Dr. Jenner nodded. "Her recent injuries do not put her in any immediate danger."

Rick narrowed his eyes. "What are you leaving out, doc?"

Jenner sighed. "How long has Noah been with you?"

"She's the newest member. We just picked her up about two days ago."

The doctor nodded again. "So you don't know much about her or where she came from?"

"We know enough."

"Well, I feel obliged to tell you this, because you seem to be the man in charge. Noah appears to have some old scars, probably from several years of severe physical abuse. I don't know if it was someone in her family or not, but she made it very clear she didn't want to talk about it. I'm sure you know, as a sheriff, how some of these victims can turn out. I just thought you should know, so you could keep an eye open."

Rick just stared at him. "You think she could be some kind of nutcase?"

"No," Dr. Jenner replied. "Just…a little more unpredictable."

"You don't know her. She's incredibly level headed."

"Do _you _know her? Really?"

"She's managed to survive on her own. She's brave and strong. She tried to stop one man in our group from hitting his wife and ended up taking the blow. She's selfless. So don't tell me that just because some bastard decided to target her she is somehow unstable and unreliable."

"I'm not saying that," Dr. Jenner said. "I'm just saying…you just might need to watch out for her. Anything or nothing could break her. You just don't know."

Rick simply nodded, feeling an oldness creep into his bones. "So you said the abuse was…severe?"

Dr. Jenner nodded. "There was one major scar and multiple smaller ones, ones that she probably doesn't even notice anymore. And they were clean, which means they were bad enough for her to go to a hospital, and I can guarantee that's something she probably hesitated to do. She didn't want me to help her with her recent wound. I'm sure there are more, if she let anyone see. Which she won't."

Rick just heaved a great sigh. "Well, shit."

Dr. Jenner gave a wry grin. "You seem to care about her, for only knowing her for a couple days."

Rick shrugged. "This world we're in right now…everything's faster. And slower, somehow, at the same time. There's no more normal."

"True."

Rick knew the conversation had to end. " Well, I should probably get back to the group. We have a lot more to talk about, you know."

Jenner looked at him. "I know."

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	8. CHAPTER 8: Obliterated

_Chapter 8: Obliterated_

When Dr. Jenner and Rick walked back into the room where we'd been eating, I could tell by the grim look on Rick's face that they hadn't just had a lighthearted conversation about the weather. In fact, when Rick glanced at me and then quickly away, I realized at least part of the conversation had probably been about me. I avoided eye contact and kept quiet as they came in.

"Alright, everybody, Dr. Jenner's going to show us around a bit more."

"Good," Shane replied, looking up at the doctor with narrowed, suspicious eyes. "Then we can talk about what the hell has actually been going on."

"Shane," Lori said reproachfully.

"What, Lori? We need to know," Shane said, and when he turned his head I could see scratches on his neck. I didn't ask about them.

"And that's why Dr. Jenner is going to fill us in," Rick said, ever the peace keeper.

"Of course," Jenner replied, and then he looked over in my direction for a moment. I looked away from him, but I could tell he didn't look away from me. "Follow me."

We all stood up and began to follow Jenner through the halls. I walked quietly behind T-Dog, letting Rick and Shane take the lead. T-Dog looked back at me. I hadn't really ever had a discussion with him, so I wasn't sure if he was going to say anything, and I was kind of surprised when he did. "How's your arm?" he asked me in a low voice.

"It feels a lot better, thanks," I replied quickly.

"And…and your face. Does it still hurt?"

I shrugged, feeling the ice pack in my hand. I had been alternating it on and off for the past couple of minutes, marveling at the relieving, numbing feeling it brought. "A little. But now it's just mostly an ugly bruise."

"Think of it this way," T-Dog said to me. "If you can look that cute with a giant bruise on your face, I'm sure any of the non-undead teenage boys we come across will be drooling."

I grinned at him, loving how for the first time someone was joking around with me. Back before the world ended, I was kind of a pretty big jokester. It wasn't like I played endless pranks and constantly made horrible puns, but I always enjoyed anything that gave me a good laugh. And even though it wasn't like T-Dog was a stand-up comedian, at least light humor could be found again. "Yeah, well, I'm sure there's an abundance of prospects out there for me somewhere."

"You never know," he said, patting me gently on the shoulder, and then he continued on ahead of me.

I was left alone until we entered the same large, circular room we'd entered briefly at the beginning. It was filled with empty computer monitors, the seats filled with the ghosts of doctors who had run away or "opted out". There was a giant countdown projected onto the wall, but it left my mind quickly when I realized the truth. Dr. Jenner really was the only one left. The only person who could possibly help us.

I was lost in my own little world, staring at the computer screens and thinking of all the people who had once been alive. I did this a lot, thinking of the people who were no longer alive. I thought about their lives, their families, their schools and friends and personalities and pets and jobs and favorite colors and celebrity crushes and hometowns. I just got sucked into it all.

One moment I was thinking about the people, and the next, T-Dog was tapping me on the shoulder and I looked up to see a large image of a human brain on a giant screen.

"You're missing some important stuff," he whispered into my ear.

I tuned in to what Dr. Jenner was saying. He was motioning towards the screen, towards test subject number nineteen. I caught on to the gist of it when I saw the little currents moving onscreen. Before infection, the human brain was alive and thinking and full of electricity. At death, there was nothing. And then, after resurrection…a strange reawakening of the brain, on a smaller and more insidious scale. Just enough awareness to move about, walk, eat, kill.

And then the bullet entered the brain, and all was dark again.

Jenner was saying something else to Rick, but I stopped paying attention again. What he'd shown us only substantiated what I had already suspected. I began to slip back into my own little world, but was pulled sharply out when my gaze fell on a little picture frame. It was a pretty woman, with auburn hair and a sweet smile. It occurred to me that this was Dr. Jenner's desk, due to the fact that there was an empty bottle of wine there and his name was scrawled on a couple of the papers lying across the keyboard.

I turned around, and not even realizing I was interrupting his conversation, I said mildly, "Was she your wife?" Everyone turned to look at me again, and I immediately blushed. "I just…the woman in the picture…and the video… I'm sorry, I'm being nosy and tactless…."

"No, you're right," Jenner replied, an old, sad look on his face. "She was my wife. TS-19. She gave herself up to be experimented on after she was bit. I had to…to end it. I've been trying to continue her work, trying to find some sort of cure."

"But there's no cure," I said sadly. "Isn't that why you brought us all here? To try to explain what you were saying before you actually said it?"

Dr. Jenner just looked shocked. Sophia turned and buried herself in her mother's arms. Lori put a hand on Carl's shoulder, but he didn't even seem to react.

"Noah—," T-Dog started.

"No, we deserve to know the truth. Shane said so himself," I said, feeling a little bud of emotion grow in my stomach. "If there's no cure, we have to be ready for everything. We don't need false hope. We need to know what world we're living in." Everyone was shocked into silence. Even Rick looked surprised at my words. "Dr. Jenner, can't you just tell us?"

He looked stressed. "I won't say there's no hope for a cure. Last I heard, before all the lines went dark, the French were the farthest along. All I know is what's on this end and…it's dismal. All my other good samples were destroyed in a lab accident. I don't have much to go off of anymore."

Everyone looked stunned, and crushed. Except for me. I just nodded. "Thank you."

"What the hell are you thanking him for?" Shane yelled. I jumped, not expecting to be yelled at for honest curiosity, and then realized that I shouldn't have been all that surprised. "He just told us that we're screwed!"

"Shane, come on," Rick said. "She asked the question we all wanted the answer to."

"Whatever," Shane replied angrily. "So what? We just hole up here until we run out of food and die off?"

That caused an uproar. Daryl started yelling at Shane and Sophia started crying and Rick tried to settle things down. And all I could do was stare at the countdown on the wall, ticking down. It was getting closer and closer to zero.

And then I remembered where we were. The Center for Disease Control. Not just some place to find a cure, but a place that housed killer _diseases. _

And I understood.

"Stop it!" I yelled. No one listened, they just kept scrambling around arguing. "Stop it, don't you see! STOP!"

My voice had risen to a panicked scream, and everyone froze. Daryl even had his hand on his crossbow.

"Look!" I exclaimed, pointing at the countdown. "He's been stalling this whole time! That's a countdown to something bad, isn't it Dr. Jenner?"

Everyone turned their heads towards the giant countdown. It only had about thirty minutes left. Once it began to sink in, it seemed in one motion everyone turned to Dr. Jenner.

He looked old, which was odd because he was pretty young, as far as adults go. He leaned against one of the computer stations, as if it took too much energy to carry around his own body. "It's a countdown to something I don't really think will be all that bad," he said.

"This is the Center for Disease Control," I said, piecing together the missing parts for everyone aloud. "This was more than just a place to try and cure the undead. This place has killer viral diseases stockpiled everywhere, doesn't it? That countdown…it's for some kind of self destruction of this place, isn't it?"

"Yes," Jenner acknowledged.

"What kind of _destruction _do you mean?" Daryl asked roughly.

"An obliterating explosion," Jenner admitted.

"What the hell, man?" Shane exclaimed, getting very red and very close to Jenner, looking about an inch a way from snapping his neck. "You need to reset that countdown! We gotta go before you kill us all!"

"I'm saving you," Jenner said, and my stomach dropped sickeningly. "The world out there…it's a dead end. Out there, all you'll get is the most painful ending you can think of. I'm offering you a quick, painless way out. The heat is outstanding; it will incinerate immediately. No pain, no suffering. I'm offering you a blessing here."

Sophia was crying soundlessly into her mother's arms, and Shane was brewing with rage. "We're leaving!" he exclaimed, and he made his ways towards the doors.

They shut themselves.

"What the hell!" Shane exclaimed. "Let us out!"

"This is what's best," Jenner said.

Rick walked up to Jenner, fear and determination in his eyes. "You can't do this to us!" he yelled. "We are people! We deserve a chance!"

"You deserve painlessness."

"My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this!" Carol cried at the top of her lungs.

I watched in horror as chaos ensued. Shots were fired at the doors, weapons were slammed against the metal slabs, but it was no use. The place was made to hold everything in until the end.

There was a moment of quiet when Jenner finally seemed to have won. Everything was still for a brief moment, save for the sparks still spitting out of some of the equipment that had been shot or the shaking sobs of poor little Sophia.

I clenched my fist, surprised to feel the sharp coldness of the icepack. I knew I had to say something. I had to die knowing I tried.

"Why'd you do it?" I asked him.

He looked at me, confused. So did everyone else. "Do what?" he asked.

"Why'd you fix me up? My head, my shoulder. You told me I'd be okay, but I'm not. Why did you help me if you were just going to kill us all?"

"I hadn't made my decision yet," Jenner said. "But when I realized…when I thought about what you'd been through…I knew that it wasn't right to put anyone else through the trials of this world. It's not humane."

"_Not humane _is not giving us a shot!" I said, walking up to him, not stopping until I was a foot away from him. "_Not humane _is not giving us a choice!"

"It's what's best!"

"No, Dr. Jenner, are you blind? Look at us! We've gone through hell to stay alive. We've gone through hell but we still want to go back out there and _live_. Why would you give me the hope of a second chance if you were just going to blast me to kingdom come?"

He started to really look at me. "How could you want to go back out there?"

"We want to live. We want to rebuild. Just like your wife wanted. She would understand that you're done, I truly believe that. But she would want you to give us a chance."

He looked to the countdown on the wall. Just a couple minutes were left.

"Please," I begged. "Please, let us go. Please."

I don't know when I could tell that he'd changed his mind, that my words had worked. All I know is one moment, I was terrified out of my mind, and the next I felt calm and safe.

"Go," he said quickly, opening the doors. "Go now." Everyone was shocked still into disbelief. "Go!" he yelled.

Everyone scrambled. I grabbed my bag, thanking God and my lucky stars that I'd brought it with me, and watched as everyone began to run out of the doors that Jenner had opened. "Thank you," I said to him. "For everything, thank you."

He nodded. "Go on, kid," he said.

I started, but then noticed Jacqui sitting in a chair. "C'mon, Jacqui, we've got to go."

"I'm staying, sweetheart," she said. "It's my time."

"No, no it's not," I said, panicking. "C'mon, Jacqui, please—"

"I want this, Noah. Please, just go."

I might not have left her, except that the smile she gave me was so genuine, so beautiful and accepting, that I just nodded and turned to go.

I felt a hand on my back and turned to see Rick at my side. "Can you run?"

"Of course," I replied, and then I took off at a sprint.

Rick was right behind me the whole time, and I had to give him credit. Anyone who could keep up with me, even in my injured form, was pretty fast. I flew through the CDC, not stopping until I could see our cars parked out of the glass window.

But we were trapped.

I whirled around. "Rick, the glass—"

"Shit," he muttered. He ran to the glass and pulled out his gun, but he didn't shoot. "It's got to be bullet proof," he said. "There's no way it's not, and if it is the bullet will just ricochet."

Carol ran up to Rick. "I have this," she said, pulling a grenade out of her bag. My eyes widened, and so did Rick's. "I got it from the bag, just in case—"

"You don't need to explain," Rick said. "Get everyone to duck down!"

I didn't need telling twice. I bolted, diving behind a steel garbage can and waiting. There was the sound of a pin being pulled, the sound of air being passed by quickly, sprinting feet, and then an explosion of shattering glass.

When it was over, everyone looked up. There was a large hole in the wall, big enough for us to escape through. "Everyone, hurry!" Rick yelled, ushering us through. When Lori and Carl passed through, he gave them reassuring kisses and words of comfort, but remained behind to see everyone through.

I was at the tail end again, simply because I had managed to get the farthest away before he threw the grenade. "C'mon, Noah, we need to go!" Rick exclaimed.

"I know, I'm coming," I said, hurrying through the hole. Rick jumped behind me, and then we were outside of the CDC.

"Run!" he yelled. "Run as fast as you can, Noah!"

I sprinted, but I couldn't reach my usual speed with my shoulder sending waves of agony through my body at every step. Again, I could feel Rick close by, and I tried to push myself harder. "Rick," I gasped in between gulps of air, "Don't slow yourself down for m—"

There was a deafening roar, the kind that made the little grenade that shattered the glass seem like the crackling of a sparkler, and a wall of heat rose to meet me. I screamed, and then I felt an arm wrap around me and slam me to the ground. Something was on top of me, but I couldn't hear anything over the explosion.

Eventually, seconds, minutes, or hours later, the sound subsided. I tried to move, but I was trapped. I pushed, but I had no idea what it was. Then it moved, and I knew it had to be a walker. Somehow, in the explosion, a walker had been blown on top of me. "Help!" I coughed out, my throat thick with smoke. "Help!"

"Noah, calm down, it's just me," I heard a familiar voice say close to my ear.

It was then that I realized the thing on top of me wasn't gnashing its teeth at me and it didn't reek of death. It was strong, healthy feeling, with a rapid heartbeat, and it smelled of the soap I'd used at the CDC and sweat.

"R-Rick?" I questioned, breathing a sigh of relief when I finally looked close enough to see it really was him. "Are you okay?"

"Just dandy," he said, turning his head away and coughing, looking down at me and upon realizing he was literally squishing me into the ground, pushed himself off of me and offered me a hand. "Are you?"

"Never better," I replied, coughing again and taking his outstretched arm. He hauled me to my feet and put both hands on my shoulders.

"You sure?" he asked, looking at me with those perpetually concerned blue eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I guess I misjudged the blast zone."

"Nobody's perfect," he said, giving my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "Run to the car, now, as fast as you can. I have to make sure Lori and Carl are okay."

"Of course," I said, and I picked my bag up from the ground, thanking God it was perfectly preserved, and made a mad dash for the car.

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	9. CHAPTER 9: Stranded

_Chapter 9: Stranded_

I was the third person to get to the van. Carol and Sophia were already there, huddled inside, clutching each other. Their heads snapped up when I opened the door and joined them. "Noah!" Sophia cried, tear tracks etched into the dirt on her face. She jumped up and lunged across the seat to wrap her arms around me. I was startled at the contact, but wrapped my arms around her and hugged her close. "I thought…I thought you and Rick were going to be killed! I thought…."

"Shhh, it's okay, we're both alright. We're fast runners."

"You saved us, Noah," she exclaimed. "You actually saved us."

"No, c'mon, we barely made it out—"

"Sophia's right," Carol cut in softly. "If you hadn't been able to talk him into letting us go…we'd all be dead right now."

I didn't know what to say. Luckily, I didn't have to say anything, because Rick ran up with an unhurt Lori and Carl, ushering them into the car. He ran around the car and got into the driver's seat. "We're going to follow the RV for a while, I gave Dale directions. We need to leave now."

We all buckled up, still in shock.

"Dad?" Carl asked quietly. His hair was all ruffled up and there was dirt on his face.

"Yeah, son?"

"Where…where are we going?"

"Well," Rick said with a sigh. "We're going to the only place we can. Fort Benning."

"Where's Fort Benning?"

"Somewhere not too far away," Rick replied.

Carl, sandwiched in between his mother and father now in the front seat, looked back at me and gave me a goofy grin. "Noah, you're like a superhero! You saved all of us!"

I shook my head. "Nah, I just made Jenner see a little bit of sense. If I hadn't, someone else would have."

"Oh, come on, you also figured out the place was going to explode," Carl said, cocking his head to the side.

"Actually, I didn't know it was going to explode specifically, I just—"

"Oh, honey, just shush," Lori said, looking back at me with a tired grin. "You're the reason we're alive today. Just enjoy it for a moment."

Everyone gave a small grin at that, but I still was kind of flabbergasted. How could they think I saved them? I literally just said a few words. The others did far more than I did. Rick kept everyone calm, Shane got the ball rolling, even Carol had a freaking grenade. All I did was say a few words.

Carol and Sophia somehow managed to fall asleep, leaving me wide awake with the Grimes'. From the back, I could see the true, real love between them all. Carl was leaning up against his dad, who had one arm thrown across the seat and was playing with Lori's hair. Lori looked like she was on the verge of falling asleep. I tried to fall asleep, but terrifying visions kept dancing through my mind and I just couldn't.

I quietly pulled my backpack onto my lap and unzipped it. It was time I reorganized. I used to be overly organized, always super meticulous about where things went and how they went. I always suspected there was a little OCD involved, but it never really interfered with my life so I didn't ever worry about it. I could feel Rick's eyes looking at me via the rearview mirror, but I didn't look back. I started taking things out of my backpack, gently placing them across my lap or on the floor.

First the pillow. I felt no shame for taking it. The world was rough enough during waking hours to justify having a pillow at nighttime. Then my baggie of dirty clothes.

Then my tent. It was the biggest thing in the backpack, but even then it was so compact it didn't take up too much space. I also had a single, thin blanket.

Underneath all that, I had a water canteen and some granola bars. I took them out as well, noting how my food supply was severely depleted. As I mentally reminded myself to try to fix that at some point, I also took out my pocketknife and matches, and the arrow that Daryl had let me keep.

That's when some miscellaneous stuff started to appear. A fifty-dollar bill I'd taken when I thought money might actually be important, a faded picture of my family before my dad had died, my long-dead cell phone, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a mini deodorant, a small brush, a couple yards of wire, and an old sweater.

When all of that was empty, there were only three things left in the bag. And they were all books.

The first one was a book of fairytales that my dad had bought for me before I had even been born. He had been adamant that I be raised on fairytales, even when my much more grounded mother thought they were stupid and would fill my head with nonsensical, unrealistic expectations for life. He read a fairy tale to me every night until I was about six, and then I read them to myself. Before he died, he had written a note to me in the book, and it was my most prized possession in the entire world.

The second was my journal. I had written in it until I had reached the age of about fifteen, and the pages were filled with bits and pieces of my life. It was a big journal, probably about five hundred pages, and very few had been left empty. I brought it with me so I wouldn't forget who I was, because even at the beginning of everything I understood there'd be no going back.

The third was the only one I hadn't opened or flipped through since I'd run away from my home. It was a fairly broken in book, but now I was starting to wonder why I'd even brought it. Crushed beneath all my other stuff was a Bible.

I'd been fairly religious all my life. My dad had been a devout Catholic, and his example made me into one. I went to church every Sunday, said the prayers, and grew to love what being a Christian meant. And that was all true, and it was a part of me. But my faltering ways hadn't just started with the end of the world. When mom brought my math teacher home, I began to doubt. When she married him, and he became my stepdad, and he started hurting our family, I began to resent. Now it just felt wrong to open the book, to read the words as if they brought me comfort anymore. I don't even know why I had brought it. Maybe I was hoping one day I'd be able to pick it up again.

I sighed and started putting things back neatly inside of my bag, making sure everything was organized and properly folded. By this time, everyone else was asleep again, somehow, leaving Rick and I the only ones awake. Again.

"You were able to pack quite a lot in that bag," he noted as I finally zipped it all up.

"I've always been good at packing," I replied.

"You should really get some sleep," he advised. "You probably need it."

"I can't sleep, I tried," I said. "My mind just won't shut up."

"I know what you mean," he said. "Last night, if I hadn't had so much alcohol, I don't think I could have ever fallen asleep."

"I just keep seeing everything that's happened play over and over again. It won't stop."

"I know exactly what you mean," Rick repeated, glancing at me from the rearview mirror. "When I was a sheriff, I saw a lot of things that were pretty hard to un-see. The only way I got through it sometimes was to think about the good things I saw alongside it."

"There's not much good here anymore," I sighed glumly.

"Sure there is," he replied, even though I could tell the attempt was a little forced. "I mean, you found us. You're not alone anymore."

"Technically, you found me."

"Either way, you've got a group now."

"Guess so," I replied, but suddenly I could feel tears spring to my eyes.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked as I quickly turned my head away, trying to force myself not to cry. He could see my change of mood instinctually.

"Yeah," I said, my voice a little choked. "I just…I don't know, accepting that I've finally found a place in this messed up world kind of makes me feel like…like I've given up. Like I'm never going to see...see my brother and sister again." I took a deep, shaky breath. Steadying myself. "It's stupid. They could easily be dead right now, and if they're not…they obviously didn't care enough about me to bring me along. I just…I had the crazy hope that if I wandered around long enough, I'd just find them." I sniffled once, and then took another calming breath. I couldn't break down then, with Sophia and Carol right beside me and Rick watching me from the front.

"Hope isn't crazy," he told me slowly, as if carefully considering each of his words. "Hope's important. You just have to sort out what's impossible and what's not."

"You say that, but if you had asked me a year ago if the dead could come back almost instantly I'd have told you to go see a doctor."

"True," he conceded. "I'm just saying, don't give up hope for your brother and sister. But don't let the possibility of not seeing them again consume you."

I took yet another deep breath; those things were much more effective than you'd think. "You're right. Of course you're right. I've gone this long constantly going back and forth across the line in between hopeful and desperate; I can do that again."

"I'm sorry I can't help you any more than that," Rick said.

"No, believe me, you helped more than you know. I just needed a little nudge in the right direction I guess."

"Well, then, you're welcome."

"Do you really know where you're going?" I asked suddenly. "I know you need to pretend for Carl, but…you don't for me."

"I know where I'm going," he said firmly. "I just don't know what's there."

"What happens if it's all death and destruction? Where will we go then?"

Rick looked back at me and just kind of grinned. "You know, you got some big questions on you, don't you?"

I shrugged. "I guess."

He gave a small laugh. "You kind of remind me of how I was when I was a teenager. I basically just asked questions until my old man told me to go look the answers up myself."

"See, up until a little while ago I had Google, so it wasn't really an issue."

He grinned again. "Yeah, if I had had that as a kid I'm pretty sure I would have been a force to be reckoned with."

"Well, I don't know about teenage Rick Grimes, but right now I'd say you've reached force-to-be-reckoned-with status."

He motioned to his shirt. "Just a sheriff, Noah."

I shook my head. "You are a sheriff no more, Rick. Do you see any law enforcement around anywhere? No, now you're just a dad, and a husband, and a leader. And you kind of kick ass when you have to."

"Guess you're kind of right," he said, allowing a small smile.

I looked out the window, watching the countryside pass by. The city was melting into green grass and trees, the highway whipping past us relentlessly. I saw something strange on a curve approaching. "Uh, Rick?"

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" he asked.

"It looks like…like…."

"Like a backup," Rick finished.

It was true. As we came closer, it was easier to make out. There were what seemed like hundreds of cars stranded on the highway, abandoned and quiet and ghostly.

Rick gently put his hand on Lori's shoulder. "Lori? Lori, you have to wake up."

She lifted her head up and looked around. "Huh?"

He also ruffled up Carl's hair, "C'mon, son, time to wake up." He looked over his shoulder at me. "Could you wake up Carol and Sophia?"

I nodded, gently shaking Sophia's knee. "Hey, sweetie, it's time to wake up." As she stirred, giving a little yawn, I gently tapped Carol's shoulder. Before I could even say anything she jumped to attention.

"What's going on?" she asked.

The car began to roll to a stop as the others in front of us did the same. "We've got to find a way around this blockage," Rick said. Everyone was now awake, and he quickly put the car in park, looking ahead.

Daryl was on his motorcycle, and he drove it up, engine rumbling. Rick rolled down his window. "Do you think you can find a way through?"

Daryl looked over his shoulder, gauging the mess, and then nodded. He turned his motorcycle around and started finding a path through the wreckage.

We followed closely behind the RV, which carried Glenn, Andrea, Dale, Shane, and T-Dog, and Daryl on his motorcycle. Everyone was eerily quiet as we maneuvered our way around the stranded cars. There were bodies in the cars, decomposing and fly-covered and gruesome. Next to me, Sophia hid her head in her mother's shoulder, and in front of me Carl was being shielded from the destruction by Lori. I stared, unprotected from the devastation, wishing Aaron was there to push my head down and tell me not to look. The desire was so strong that for a moment I felt the need to cry again, but I couldn't do that now. I had gone so long without shedding a tear, and now suddenly I was threatening to burst into sobs at any moment. I was a ticking time bomb of emotion.

Suddenly, there was a sound that resembled that of a gunshot, and smoke emitted from the RV in front of us. Rick cursed, and then set the car in park again. He opened his door and stepped out, Lori following suit almost immediately. I quickly flung my backpack over my shoulder and slid out of the backseat.

The first thing I noticed was how still the air was. Not even a whisper of a breeze graced my skin. And it was stiflingly hot, practically suffocating me. The stench of the dead wasn't as strong, but I had a feeling that was just because I wasn't directly next to one of the bodies. Carol, Sophia, and Carl got out as well, walking slowly behind me. I made my way to the RV, feeling my heart sink when I realized we'd probably be stranded there for a while. In the aftermath of a war.

As I carefully avoided stepping on what looked like a little girl's doll and a pair of sunglasses, I felt someone standing beside me. I looked over at Carl. "Hey," he said.

I was kind of surprised. "Hey," I replied.

"So this…this place. Do you think anyone survived?"

I looked around, at the bodies and destruction and obvious hopelessness of it all. "Yeah," I said, surprised at the conviction in my voice. "Yeah, I do. Maybe not a lot, but…humanity seems to find a way to live on, no matter what."

"Do you think they're living in a group, like we are?"

"I don't know," I replied. "I don't think we ever will know. But I'm guessing they're out there somewhere, surviving. Just like we are."

He looked up at me. "How old are you, Noah?"

I was kind of surprised at that question. It had only just occurred to me that not everyone knew my age, that the only ones who did were Rick, Glenn, Lori, and Shane. Amy had known, but it's not like she was here to share in that with me. "Seventeen. My birthday was just a week and a half ago."

"Really?" Carl replied with a grin. "Happy late birthday!"

I returned his smile, awed that in the midst of a million horrible things he could still find a way to be excited about something as mundane as a birthday. "Thanks, Carl."

"Did you do anything special?" he asked.

I laughed openly, causing a couple people to look over at me to see what was so comical, including Rick and Lori. I just fondly ruffled Carl's hair. "Sort of. I raided an abandoned farmhouse and found a package of cookies."

"Cookies?" Carl asked wistfully. "I miss cookies."

"Yeah," I said. "I ate the whole thing of them. I felt a little sick afterwards, but it was worth it."

"Sounds like a pretty good birthday," I heard someone say in front of me. I looked up at Lori, who was giving me a kind smile. And then I realized there was more in that smile than a birthday congratulations. It was a thank you, for distracting Carl from all of the death and horror that was surrounding him. I gave her the slightest of nods.

"Do you think that next year you'll remember when your birthday is? It's not like we have calendars anymore," Carl asked me.

How could I tell him that my chances of surviving until I was eighteen were laughably thin? "I don't know. Time will tell, I guess."

Up ahead, the adults were discussing what to do about the RV. Whatever was happening, I got the distinct feeling that we were going to be there a while.

"We might as well take a look around here and see what we can salvage," Glenn remarked, adjusting the baseball cap that was ever present on his head. "Fuel, water, nonperishable food, clothes, medicine…stuff we're going to need."

Lori looked appalled. "Guys…this is a graveyard."

Everyone stopped a moment to assess what she said. It was true, there was no doubting that. The stuff we were taking…it belonged to the poor bodies that littered the highway. It wasn't ideal, but…at the same time, we needed this stuff. We needed to survive.

"I don't know how I feel about this," Lori continued.

Rick gently held her shoulders, explaining to her that this was a necessary evil. I realized Carl was by me, listening to what was happening. I looked down at him. "Hey, Carl, want to see if we can find ourselves a baseball or something?"

He looked a little bit more downcast after listening to the grown-ups talk about the morals of looting a graveyard, but he perked up a bit. "Sure," he replied.

"We just need to make sure we stay close to your mom and dad," I said. "I don't want them to get worried about you."

"Okay," Carl agreed. "Can Sophia come?"

I looked over at the girl, who was glued to her mother. Carol, rightfully protective as always, looked like she would be unwilling to part with her daughter for more than even a moment. "I don't know, Carl, that's up to her mom. And speaking of, you should probably ask your mom or dad before you go exploring with me."

"Okay," he said. "I'll go ask my dad. He likes you a lot."

"He likes everyone, Carl."

"No, I think he likes you more than some of the others. I heard him talking to my mom. He said you need someone who you can count on, and since you don't really have any family, he's the guy for the job."

I didn't know how to respond to that. Half of me was pissed. Rick was a good guy, but who the hell did he think he was? My father? He was just a guy who saved my life once or twice. He surely didn't owe me anything, and I was furious that he thought he needed to be some kind of guardian angel. He had Lori and Carl to worry about. I'd be the biggest burden, the unwanted foster child of the post-apocalyptic Grimes family.

But the other half of me, the reluctant, family-less, terrified girl inside of me, was kind of touched.

Of course, anger always seems so much more potent than appreciation, whether or not that's actually the case. I just looked at Carl and said, "Well, why don't you ask, and then come back when you have an answer."

"Alright." He made his way over to his dad, and I leaned against a nearby car, a black truck. It reminded me of Aaron's truck, the one he'd had since he was sixteen. He had literally been saving money since he was thirteen for a car, and the moment he had his license he went out and bought this used truck off of one of his friend's uncles or something like that. He decked it out, too, putting his future college's bumper sticker on the back and hanging his sunglasses perpetually on his rearview mirror. And he always had a baseball and a glove in his backseat, no matter what.

And that's about when I saw the sunglasses hanging off the rearview mirror.

And the world stopped.

It couldn't be possible.

Like I was in a dream, I walked around to the back of the truck. I should've known it when I saw that all too familiar scratch on the side, where I had backed into a parking meter when Aaron first let me drive his truck. But it didn't hit me until I saw the Florida State bumper sticker and the Florida license plate, and the wind was knocked out of my lungs.

"Oh my God," I breathed, feeling as if someone had just punched me in the stomach. I put a shaking hand on the tailgate of the truck, feeling it in my hand, knowing it was real. It was _his_.

I didn't notice Rick walking over without Carl, obviously wanting to lay down the standard babysitting guidelines, until he was already there by me, looking alarmed. "Noah?"

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even decide how I felt. Somehow, I squeezed out the words. "It's Aaron's. It's his truck."

**Long one, I know. New chapter coming shortly! Comment, Follow... do what you do best. Thanks! :)**


	10. CHAPTER 10: Outnumbered

_Chapter 10: Outnumbered _

"Your brother?" Rick asked, and I could hear the genuine disbelief in his voice. "This is his truck?"

I nodded, and then choked on a sob. "Everyone here is _dead_."

Rick didn't say anything, he just walked around to the front of the car and peered in through the window. "There's barely anything in this car," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked, biting back my emotions.

"It's cleaned out, Noah. There aren't even bags in here. The only thing that stands out is the pair of sunglasses."

"Is…is the door unlocked?" I asked hesitantly.

Rick tugged on the door, and it opened. "Guess he didn't bother to lock it after he ran."

I made my way to the driver's side, gingerly sliding into the seat. Aaron had been here. He'd been sitting in this seat. I quickly looked in the middle divider and in the passenger seat compartment. There wasn't much. Aaron's registration and a CD holder that contained a lot of classic rock and Beatles albums. And his baseball cap. His lucky little league baseball cap.

I picked it up, my hand trembling. At first, my initial reaction was devastation. Aaron would never willingly leave this hat. He'd come back for it, even if a thousand walkers were chasing after him. But then…I realized that maybe he'd left it behind for a reason. I wouldn't be deluded into thinking that he knew I'd find it, but Aaron was big on not wanting to disappear into nothingness. That was his biggest fear—not being known. It's why he was pursuing a baseball career. When all the other little leaguers' dreams of being a professional baseball player faded, Aaron's only grew stronger. He played in college, and he was good. None of that mattered anymore, but I realized leaving the hat was some form of trying to leave a piece of himself for someone else to find. And somehow…someway…I was the one who found it.

I clutched the hat in my hand and realized Rick was still standing beside the truck, watching me closely. Without looking at him, I turned around and looked in the backseat. It was completely empty, not a single bag or piece of clothing in sight. It was _too _empty.

"They made it out," I said quietly. "They had to have gotten out."

"Why do you say that?" Rick asked.

"Every single thing is gone, like you said," I replied. "Everything. I know they took a ton of clothes and food and water and gear, because I remember when I was getting my own little pack when I left I was really frustrated when I saw they had taken a lot of the good stuff. And…I know because…well, Aaron's ball and glove aren't here."

"His what?" Rick asked.

"His baseball and his glove." Aaron had loved his baseball cap, that's for sure, but there was no way he'd ever leave his glove and ball behind. That glove had been my dad's when he was just a kid, and Aaron had been really close with him. The ball was a homerun ball that my dad had caught for Aaron when he was four years old and they attended their first major league game. Aaron had known our dad the longest, and was torn apart when he died. That glove and ball were all he had left of him. He'd never leave them behind unless he was dead. They were to Aaron what my family photograph was to me—the only piece of my past that I had to hold onto. "He took them with him. If he had been killed, they'd still be here. The clothes and stuff, they could have all been looted if he had died, but no one would think to take the ball and glove that he kept shoved under the seat. But he did."

Rick didn't look bought, but I think he saw my need for hope. "I hope he's out there. And your sister."

"He's got to be," I said firmly, jumping out of the car and jamming the cap on top of my head stubbornly. "Aaron and Mandy are out there. I can feel it inside of me. Couldn't you feel that Lori and Carl were still alive? Didn't you just…_know_?"

He just gave me this stare, the kind that I truly couldn't decipher. He looked like he wanted to say something to me. And then I saw something move a distance away over his shoulder.

"Rick…Rick, a walker."

He turned and saw the thing limping through the cars, meandering along. It hadn't seen us yet. Rick lifted the rifle that was always in his hand, which had a scope, and aimed to shoot.

I think he saw them when I did. It wasn't just one walker. It was a hoard of them. And they were coming straight for us.

"Oh, Christ," he breathed, and then he grabbed my arm roughly. "C'mon!"

He pulled me back towards the others, towards Lori and Carl. "Get down!" he exclaimed to everyone. "Get down! Under the cars!"

I watched as everyone around me hit the ground, Lori, Carol, Sophia, Carl, Glenn, Shane. I couldn't see T-Dog or Daryl, and I guessed Dale and Andrea were in or around the RV. Before I could process what was happening, Rick slammed me to the ground with him and dragged me under a large SUV. Before I could even gasp in surprise, he wrapped a strong arm around my head and clamped a hand over my mouth.

"Not a sound," he barely whispered into my ear.

I couldn't help it. I was shaking. We couldn't survive a hoard of walkers. We were all going to get picked off one by one, I just knew it. I was going to have to watch as Rick and his family were devoured around me as I too became a feast for a dead man, not twenty feet away from my brother's truck. Rick being so close to me did nothing to ease my terror. He wouldn't be able to save me. We were screwed.

When the first of the walkers slowly limped their way past us, I pushed my head to the ground. I didn't want to see. If I saw, I knew I was going to panic. I was going to lose my mind and maybe scream, and that would be the death of us all. Rick's hand remained over my mouth as I tilted my forehead towards the pavement, and he somehow managed to crush me to him at the same time. I could hear the low groans and hisses that the walkers made, and the scraping shuffle of their gait.

I didn't hear any movement other than that. I prayed the others had all found a way to hide. Somehow, the hiding under the car plan seemed to be working. Rick's muscles remained completely taut, and I couldn't have escaped his headlock if I had tried my damndest.

I'm not sure when, but eventually the decaying, passing feet were gone. Not a single sound was made. Ever so slightly, Rick relaxed his muscles. I lifted my head up and looked at him. He was looking ahead, at the car in front, where Lori was hiding with Carol. I guess he saw me out of the corner of his eye, because he turned and locked eyes with me. He dropped his hand from my mouth and then held a finger to his lips.

And then there was a scuffle, and a yelp, and then I could hear someone panting in terror. Rick swung his head around, trying to find the source of the noise, but I saw it first.

"Oh my God, Sophia!" I whispered. Rick immediately turned to me, his face stony, and then he grabbed his rifle and started scooting out from under the car. I watched, too shocked to move. Two straggling walkers had seen her, I'm guessing as she shuffled to move closer to the car that Carl had used for cover. They were snarling and ravenously pursuing her. I could hear scraping and whimpers next to me and saw Carol clawing her way out from underneath her car.

"My baby!" she moaned. "My baby girl!"

Lori was close behind her. "Carol, honey, Rick's gone after her. He's going to get her, alright."

Carol was not so easily consoled. It was like she hardly heard the woman next to her. "Oh, Lori, two walkers are chasing after my baby!"

I took that time to finally remove myself from the little hideaway, standing up and dusting the loose gravel from my clothes. I quickly made my way over to where everyone was standing. I sensed someone standing near me and quickly turned my head. "God, Daryl, you scared me," I said breathlessly.

"Sorry, kid," he said.

I stared at him in horror. "You're covered in blood! You weren't…."

"Bit? No," he assured me. "It's not mine. It's T-Dog's. And before you ask…he'll probably be okay. Impaled his arm on a damn car window." He stared off into the woods. "Grimes'll save the girl."

"I hope so," I sighed, trying to spot the two in the trees, ultimately failing. "Sophia doesn't deserve this."

"No less than any of us do," he replied.

"Her father treated her like shit," I said harshly but softly, not wanting a hysterical Carol to hear me. "And she's only twelve. I mean…God, how much more can be taken from her? She's lost her childhood, her innocence, her good-for-nothing father…. What's next?"

"Her life," Daryl said plainly. "But Rick's not going to let that happen."

I looked at him. "You think so?"

"Rick's a good man," Daryl said in reply. "He's not going to stop until Sophia's okay."

I looked out, trying once more to spot them in the forest, but in vain. I just shook my head, looking away and resting my eyes on Carl, a few feet away, who had never had a more devastated look on his face. "I hope so," I sighed, trying to dust the remaining gravel off of my clothes and palms. "I really, really hope so."

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	11. CHAPTER 11: Beseeched

_Chapter 11: Beseeched_

Rick killed the walkers that chased Sophia. But she was nowhere to be found.

I could feel the low boiling panic that was bubbling up in the group, but Rick, Daryl, and Shane were doing their hardest to keep everything under control. We set up camp on the highway that night, but tensions were high and even around Rick I just felt unsure and anxious.

I was going to set up my tent by T-Dog's. He was doing okay. His arm was wrapped up tight and the bleeding had stopped, but infection was always a possibility. I mainly decided to set up my tent there because I wanted to stay away from the drama that was happening with Sophia. Carol was a mess, rightfully so, and Lori was constantly trying to console her, which I thought was just ridiculous because there is no way on this earth you can console a mother whose daughter has gone missing in a world full of walkers.

On top of that, there was a tension between Shane and Rick that I'm pretty sure had only been brought out by the disappearance of Sophia. I could tell there was some kind of beef between them that went back a little, or something that they had yet to clear up, because they just kept snapping back and forth at each other.

Hearing everyone freak out wasn't really of interest to me. I just wanted to solve the mystery of where the hell my brother and sister were. And finding Aaron's truck was some kind of sign, I just knew it.

For some reason, I was having a difficult time making my tent pop up. I was cursing under my breath and was almost to the point of kicking something when a hand fell on my shoulder.

I whirled around. "Andrea."

"Need a little help?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine," I replied, giving up and starting to fold the tent back up into its small, collapsible form. "I was thinking I might just spend the night in my brother's truck. I know, kind of strange, but…."

"It's all you have of him. I get it," Andrea said, shrugging. "I don't think that's strange at all."

"You know…it's crazy…but I really liked Amy," I said, hoping I wasn't speaking prematurely. "I'm sorry to bring it up again, I know you probably don't want me to. I just…I don't know, I can't get her out of my brain. She's the first person…the first person I've actually lost in this world. I mean I haven't found my brother and sister, and I left my parents, but I never really lost them. I just...I just wanted to say that, because the last time I talked to you about her, I was totally shitfaced, and I honestly can't even remember what I said."

Andrea looked at me. "I don't mind you talking about Amy. I mind it when Dale brings her up, or when anyone else gives me that pitiful look, but for some reason I don't mind when you talk about her. Even in that short time...you were her friend."

I just nodded, and then pulled the pillow out of my backpack. "Well, I'm guess I'm going to set up camp in the bed of the trunk."

"What if it rains?" Andrea asked.

I took one look at the sky. "Not a chance."

"Is that a pillow from the CDC?"

I could feel myself blush. "Yes."

"You actually stole a pillow?" she asked, astounded.

"In my defense, I was hungover and not really thinking straight. I just wanted some comfort."

Andrea laughed out loud, and I was shocked at the sound. "A pillow! That's…that's actually really funny, Noah."

I shrugged again. "Laugh all you want. At least I have a pillow."

She walked away grinning, and I figured if it took laughing at my expense to make the poor woman crack a smile, it'd have to do.

I'd finally set up all my stuff in the back of the truck. I had found a comforter in the back of someone's car, and while Lori's sentiments about looting echoed in my ear I couldn't help but think it'd be just plain stupid to not take advantage of this abundance of resources. I had also found another blanket, a little thicker than the one I kept in my backpack. I threw all of it in the back of Aaron's truck and made myself a nice little nest of blankets, complete with my prized pillow.

I was leaning back, about to fall asleep under a dying sun, when the smell of sweaty man and the creak of someone leaning against Aaron's truck brought me out of my daze. I opened my eyes. "Can't a girl get some shut eye around here?" I asked softly.

Rick looked down at me, his arms folded on the edge of the truck, his chin resting on his hands. "You gonna be okay out here without a tent?"

I gestured to the blankets around me. "Better than okay."

"Alright. Yell if you need anything." He turned to leave.

"Wait. Rick." He stopped and turned back around. "Sophia getting lost…it's not your fault. I know you think it is, but it's not."

He didn't say anything, opting to just nod and begin to turn again.

"Wait. I'm not done," I said, sitting up. "Carl told me earlier that he heard you talking to Lori about you needing to take care of me. You don't have to put that on yourself. I never asked you to."

"It's not something you have to ask me to do," Rick replied. "I want to."

"No you don't," I replied stubbornly. "You don't know me, Rick. You have too much on your hands already without having another body to worry about."

Rick just grinned tiredly. "Luckily for me, you don't need _that _much taking care of. I barely have to do a thing except care about you and help you out the few times that you need it."

I couldn't help it. Inside, a little bud of elation sprouted. A few days ago I was all alone in the world, and now this man was pledging to not leave me by myself. After what felt like a lifetime of having a really sucky father figure, I was genuinely touched.

"C'mon, you barely know me, don't you think this is moving a little fast?" I asked, failing to keep the sly grin off of my face.

"You just hunker back down in your truck bed and go to sleep, Noah," Rick said with a laugh. "We're waking up bright and early to search for Sophia. You gonna join us?"

"Of course," I replied. "Or if you need me to watch Carl for you, I can do that. Whatever will be the most help."

"Thanks, Noah. We'll figure it all out in the morning. Daryl's heading the search, he's the best tracker, so whatever he says go. Sleep well."

"You too."

* * *

I slept soundly that night. So soundly in fact, that when I was being poked awake in the morning, I could barely remember where I was. I snapped to attention, fighting the blankets off of me before realizing I was so twisted up in them there was no way I was going to get out. I heard a snort of laughter before finally zeroing in on the dickhead that had woken me from my slumber.

"Daryl? What the hell! Did you just poke me awake with your _crossbow_?"

"Rick told me you were gonna help with the search," he commented with an amused grin. "Well, we're searching, so get up Lil Red."

I glared at him and tried to untangle myself from the comforter in a dignified manner. "Noah. My name's Noah."

"I knew a guy named Noah. He was a bastard. I don't find you quite as goddamn awful, so you're Red. Now c'mon, I ain't got all damn day!"

I mumbled a few expletives directed towards him and he just stood and tapped his foot as I finally writhed my way out of the sheets, dignity be damned. He looked at me, not a single ounce less amused, and then he watched as I grabbed my knife and slid it into my pocket. I quickly jumped out of the back of the truck and looked at him, trying not to notice how much taller he was than me.

"You need to be nicer," I finally snapped as I adjusted my shirt and attempted to tame my hair. "What if I died today, hm? The last thing you'd have said to me would be 'I don't find you quite as goddamn awful'." I finally just pulled my hair out of its ponytail and started weaving it into a simple side braid, all the while glaring up at the stupid redneck. He actually looked a little taken aback. A couple feet behind him I could see Rick, looking mildly entertained. I returned my attention to Daryl. "And don't say 'goddamn' around me, it's really rude and I don't appreciate it."

I stomped away from him, aggravated. I could hear Rick behind me, genially admonishing Daryl and saying that maybe next time he should try a new approach to waking me up.

My pissy, self-righteous mood immediately melted when I saw Carol sitting on the side of the road, staring off into the trees as if Sophia would just come barging back into camp. She was alone, everyone else readying themselves for the day-long search that was sure to drain each and every person. She was already prepared to go, and just silently waiting. I knew I should go say something to her, something comforting or encouraging, but I was empty-handed in the motivational quote department.

I turned around and ran smack into Lori. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed.

"No problem, Noah," Lori replied, giving me a tight smile. "You going to search with us?"

"Unless you guys need me to do something else."

"Well, I was actually wondering if you could come because…well, Carl's coming, and I just want to make sure he's not wandering off. Shane and Rick and I…we just really want to find Sophia, and Carl wants to help, but I don't want to be constantly worried about him…."

"I'll keep an eye out for him, Mrs. Grimes, don't worry."

"Noah, sweetie, it's Lori," she said with a grin. "And thanks, I'll pay you back sometime."

"You patched up my arm when Rick brought me back to the camp and helped me stay awake after the whole thing with Ed. This is _me _paying _you _back," I said, returning her grin. "Now where is the little guy?"

"He's sulking over by our tent. Shane brushed him off to go make some arrangements for the search and, I don't know, he's just feeling a little dejected."

"I'll go talk with him," I said. "I can't imagine how he's feeling. Sophia's his friend."

She touched my unhurt shoulder, trying to convey her gratitude, and I just nodded and went to find Carl. He _was _sulking. He was sitting at the entrance to their tent, flipping his pocketknife over and over again, staring at the ground. "Hey Carl," I said.

He lifted his head up, eyes brightening. "Hi Noah!"

"I heard Shane was being a little rough today."

Carl sighed. "I don't know what I did wrong."

I sat down next to him, crisscross apple sauce. "Want to know my guess? He's just really stressing about Sophia. I don't think you've done anything wrong. He cares about you, he just wants to make sure your friend is alright."

He looked unsure. "You think?"

"Yeah. Are you kidding? Shane thinks you're the best. I saw him catching frogs with you back at the Atlanta camp. He was having a ball. He's just scared for Sophia."

"Do you think we'll find her?" Carl asked. "I bet she's really scared out there, all alone…."

"I really hope we do," I sighed, my heart aching at the uncertainness of it all. "She's a really sweet girl. But she's tough."

"Alright everyone!" Daryl called from a few feet away. "Let's go!"

"C'mon," I said to Carl, offering him my hand. He took it and let me pull him to his feet, and then we made a quick stop by Aaron's truck so I could get my backpack and proceeded to join everyone else.

Carl immediately gravitated towards his father, who ruffled his son's hair. Daryl didn't say anything, just motioned us all forward. The only people not joining us were Dale and T-Dog, who volunteered to hold down the fort until we returned, hopefully with Sophia.

We entered the woods, hopeful and ready to bring her home.

* * *

The first half of the day we found nothing but an old tent with a dead body inside, someone who had "opted out" of this new world. Around lunchtime, we'd come across a small church that was minimally infested with walkers. Once we dispatched the ones that were there, we took a quick break. Carol went to sit inside the church for a while, and I wondered if she was going to get any solace from that. I knew that I used to.

I sat on one of the steps as everyone else walked around and got reorganized. I took out my canteen and took a drink, wiping my head against my arm. I was wearing jeans and a loose, light pink tank top that I'd scavenged from a Prius on the highway, and neither did much to prevent me from burning up. Sweat clung to my body, and I was pretty sure I wasn't smelling so great, although I had put on some deodorant. I was exhausted too, and my feet hurt despite the fact that I was wearing boots.

Daryl walked up to me. "Shane decided we're going to split. He, Rick, and Carl are going to search north of here, the rest of us west. We're going to head out in about fifteen minutes."

"'Kay," I replied, standing up and tucking my canteen back in my backpack.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"Inside the church," I replied, and said nothing more, my glare practically daring him to ask me anything else. Something about Daryl wasn't sitting well with me.

"Alright, just be ready to go in fifteen."

I nodded and then turned around and started walking up the steps to the church. The door creaked as I opened it, and then I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

I walked up to the front pew and sat down, staring at the cross at the front of the small little church. It was a little Baptist church, and although I wasn't Baptist I could still feel the natural relaxation that being in a church brought to me. I kept staring at the cross, remembering how praying used to come so easily to me, like breathing.

_Are you there, God?_

I shook my head. That was stupid. But what else was I supposed to say? What did you say to an old friend you had ignored for a very, very long time?

_I'm having a hard time believing you care right now. Everyone and everything's dying. I can't find Aaron and Mandy. I'm starting to think I never will._

I put my head in my hands, closing my eyes. This was ridiculous. I could be doing a million other productive things, and Sophia was still out there. Sitting in a shady room and sending up thoughts to the sky wasn't going to help.

_Sophia needs help. That's the only reason I'm here right now. You used to help me a lot, with my dad and my stepdad, and with friends and boyfriends and with whatever I needed. Maybe I called in all my favors too early, and that's fine, but Sophia's only twelve. Can't you save her? Or…help her in some way, if it's too late to save her._

Was that good enough? Was I forgetting anything else? I was furious at myself for not knowing what to say. I used to be able to do the whole praying thing so effortlessly.

_And if it's not too much to ask, just watch over this group. Everyone here is nice, except for Daryl and sometimes Shane, but at least they're not exactly mean at the same time. They all have lost someone, or they're missing someone, or they just need help. I mean, I really do understand if I've used up all my prayers for me already in the old world, but these guys need them a lot._

I realized I was just prattling off a wishlist, and suddenly felt very stupid.

_And, you know, I guess I'm sorry about letting you go the past couple of years. It's just really sucked lately, God, with stuff at home and now all this. I kind of let you fall to the background. I just stopped feeling like you cared, and I'm still not sure. But at least now I can say I tried._

That was it. I was completely out of words. I had nothing else I could say in my head, and so I just sat there until I heard the door open behind me and my head snapped up and I turned around. "Oh. Hi, Rick."

"Hey," he replied, walking towards pew I was in. "I'm sorry if I—"

"No," I said quickly, my voice a bit higher and the words a bit rushed, "I was just leaving."

"Alright," he replied, and I stood up and walked past him on my way out. Right when I was about to leave, he asked, "Did you get what you were looking for in here?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Guess we'll see."

**Sorry for the long break! Getting back in the swing of things! Thanks for reading! ~Lacey :)**


	12. CHAPTER 12: Summoned

_Chapter 12: Summoned_

Rick watched as Noah, a little red faced, walked out of the little church, her curly red hair swaying behind her. He could tell she was leaving a little more confused than she had upon entering, and he wondered if that was good or not.

He didn't know why he'd decided to give prayer a shot. He'd never really been all that spiritual, and he'd tended to put his faith in himself and in his family instead of something or someone he couldn't see or hear.

He sat in the spot Noah had just been sitting in, wondering if this was even right, to try to pray to a God he wasn't even really sure he believed in. But still, something moved him to get down on one knee and stare up at the cross on the wall, the bleeding body of Jesus looking down at him.

"I don't really know if you're looking at me with, what, sadness? Scorn? Pity? Love?" He shook his head, trying to clear the emotions that were fogging his brain. "Or maybe it's just indifference."

He removed his hat, taking a deep breath. "Guess you already know I'm not much of a believer," he said, hearing the skeptical overtones in his own voice. "Guess I just chose to put my faith elsewhere. Family, mostly. Friends. My job." It sounded pathetic to his own ears. "The thing is we…I could use a little help, to keep us going. Some kind of acknowledgment, some kind of…indication I'm doing the right thing." Rick could hear his own voice shaking. "You don't know how hard that is to know!" He took a rickety breath and then looked back up at the bleeding face before him, and added, "Well, maybe you do."

He didn't know what else to say, so he put his hat back on and got up, walking briskly down the aisle. But then, in a flurry of emotion he didn't realize he had, he turned back around. "Hey, look, I don't need all the answers. Just a little nudge, a _sign_. Any sign'll do."

And then he knew he was really out of words, and that if God was there, he'd do his thing.

He walked swiftly out of the church to find everyone gone except for Shane and Carl. Shane looked up at him. "Did you get what you needed?"

"Guess we'll find out," Rick replied, walking past them and away, knowing they'd follow.

* * *

The woods were dense, and Rick was constantly making sure Carl was within his sight, afraid that the moment he couldn't see his son he'd be gone just like Sophia. He knew he shouldn't have been so paranoid. Even on the off chance Carl wandered away from Rick's direct line of sight, Shane wouldn't let anything happen to him. Rick marveled at how much Shane had done to protect his family, and while he was conscious of a bit of tension between his son and his best friend, he still couldn't be more grateful for what Shane had done for them. For him.

Rick's mind wandered. He wondered how often praying worked, and he wondered if God usually sent signs to people who asked for them. He thought maybe God did, but people didn't always understand what they were looking at. That was, of course, if this God did exist. If not, well, at least he made an effort.

"Dad!"

Rick's head was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the shocked voice of his son. He lurched forward. "Yeah, Carl?"

"Look."

Standing in front of Carl, about ten feet away, was a deer. It was still. It didn't move an inch. And it appeared to be looking right at Carl.

Rick and Shane didn't move as they watched Carl's face light up. He took the smallest of steps forward, and the deer still didn't even flinch. His smile grew wider as he turned around to glance at his dad before facing the deer again. They were locked in that moment, two living creatures seeing eye to eye, the connection between them evident and bright. For a moment, for one brief moment, thoughts of death and destruction and the world they lived in disappeared as every atom in that forest seemed to glow with sheer life.

The sound of the gunshot tore through the air, and the only emotion Rick felt at first as he watched the deer collapse moments before his son did as well was pure confusion.

But then Carl was on the ground, motionless, and there was blood flowing from his body, and Rick stumbled over to him, shocked. "No, no, no, no…."

Shane was right behind him, but Rick didn't really feel his presense. The blood was coursing through his body, panic settling in as he checked Carl's pulse and found the faintest of heartbeats.

He did the first thing he thought of. He lifted his bleeding son in his arms, hoisted him up into an easier position, and began sprinting.

TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD

The forest was dense, and even though I had always been in relatively decent shape, what with my star studded high school varsity track and field career, I could feel myself tiring as the hike continued. The sun was pounding on my back, and I was starting to think that the next thing I needed to loot from some deserted home or car was a nice big bottle of sunscreen containing some obscenely high number of SPF.

I was walking by Glenn, who was the kind of guy who would talk animatedly if you gave him a reason to, but wouldn't say a word otherwise. I tried to gauge how awkward it would be to strike up a conversation with him, and finally decided that with all of the walking it was just far too boring to _not _talk.

"Hey, Glenn?"

He turned to look at me, the same coat of sweat that was glistening on everyone's faces covering his as well. "Yeah?"

"I never had the chance to say thanks for saving me a couple days ago," I said. "If you or Rick had decided I wasn't worth picking up, I'd be dead right now."

Glenn grinned at me. "Don't sweat it, Noah. I'm glad we picked you up, too. We'd all be dead if we hadn't."

I rolled my eyes. "That again. I don't see why people think I actually saved everyone. All I did was talk some sense into Jenner. The rest of you did all the escaping."

"Oh, hush," Lori said, listening in on our conversation, looking over her shoulder and grinning. "I already told you to just enjoy it."

Everyone gave a small, appreciative smile or laugh, all of which were immediately wiped away at the jolting sound of a gunshot.

Birds rustled through the trees as the sound of it reverberated through the air. Everyone was still for a moment, the echoes of the gunshot the only noise.

Andrea said what everyone was thinking. "Do you think Rick or Shane found a walker?"

Lori shook her head, obviously trying to convince herself that wasn't true. "They wouldn't have used a gun for just one. And if there had been more than one there would have been more gunshots."

"Then where'd it come from?" Carol asked timidly.

"It could be another group," Daryl reasoned. "Either way, doesn't change anything. We're still searching."

We didn't say anything else to the contrary, but I could tell by everyone's uneasy faces that they were concerned. I thought of little Carl, and I couldn't help but think the same thing. If something had happened to him, or to Rick…or even to Shane, I couldn't picture this group going on.

We trekked through the woods for nearly an hour after that. Somehow, I progressed to the head of the pack, with Daryl. I was still a little upset at him for being the world's worst waker-upper, but at the same time he was good at not talking to me, and after that gunshot, I had suddenly given up any desire to have a conversation.

The only interaction I even had with him was when I was trying to get through a particularly briary amount of brush that was impeding my path. I kept pushing at it with my hands, feeling the sharp thistles leave scrapes on my arm. I knotted my eyebrows together, determined to defeat the damned obstacle, when Daryl quickly stepped in front of my and swiftly yanked free a path for me. I looked up at him as he tossed the brush aside, and he gave me a look that said nothing other than _after you_.

We saw nothing in that hour, neither hide nor hair of little Sophia, and I was starting to get the kind of tired that left you unable to walk properly for a few days. Right about when I acknowledged the weariness in my bones was when the ground shook.

I looked up, immediately alarmed. I saw Daryl lift his crossbow, and if I wasn't mistaken, he took the smallest of steps in order to stand in front of me. Everyone looked up as the shaking turned into noise, like thunder on the ground. I'd heard the sound before, recently, on my journey north from Florida. I looked at Daryl, and when he saw my head turn he looked at me. "A horse?" I asked.

No one needed to answer me, because seconds later a horse came galloping into our midst, a young woman with dark hair that fell just above her shoulders riding atop it. This time, I couldn't mistake it at all when Daryl stood directly in front of me, crossbow at the ready, and I wanted to tell him to stop being ridiculous, but I was distracted by the harried face of the woman.

"Lori?" she called out. "Lori Grimes?"

My eyes went to Lori in surprise, and I saw Daryl lower his weapon slightly. "Who are you?" Lori asked.

"My name's Maggie, I live at the farm a little while up the highway. Your son…he's been shot. You need to come with me."

The look on Lori's face was one of such pure, unadulterated shock and terror that it almost broke my heart. She immediately started forward to join Maggie on the horse, but Andrea touched her arm, stopping her. "We don't know you," Andrea said. "How do we know you're telling the truth?"

Maggie looked annoyed, directing her next words to Lori. "Your son, Carl, and your husband Rick, and his friend, uh, Shane. They came running to our house, your little boy with a gunshot wound. You really need to come now."

Lori didn't hesitate a second longer. She walked up to the horse, grabbed Maggie's hand, and slung herself onto the back of the animal. Maggie turned around, prepared to come back the way she came. "To get to the farm, just go about two miles up the highway and make a right on the dirt road. You'll see us there." Then she kicked the horse and it bolted forward, taking Lori away with her.

**Sorry updating has been so slow. I'm a busy person, what with school, sports, working, having a social life, and watching all my TV shows. I will try to update as often as possible! Thanks for all the continued support! As usual, Follow, Comment, and Favorite! ~ Lacey :)**


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